


The Way It Was

by theinspiredginger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas claims Dean, Christmas, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi, Ownership, Profound Bond, Protective Castiel, Reincarnation, Sharing a Bed, They share food, impala scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:35:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinspiredginger/pseuds/theinspiredginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas grow closer as the apocalypse approaches. Cas struggles to come up with a way to save Dean from becoming Michael's vessel. Things take a turn for the worse, and one of them is forced to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> omg i feel like i've been writing this thing forever! I still haven't completely finished writing it but i'm getting there! I've decided that i'll post every week or so, until i run out of chapters and have to write more.
> 
> It starts out slow, i know but it should hopefully move a little faster as time goes on. And the summary is crap but i didn't want to give away any spoilers for what's to come...
> 
> A HUGE shout out to mourinhoes, aholeintheground, and booksandbubbletea for helping me edit this! this is my first time writing destiel and i hope it turned out okay! 
> 
> Thanks so much!
> 
> ~xoxoSasha

“Dean, I do not understand that reference.” Castiel raised an eyebrow at his friend while Dean chuckled.

“Shocker.” Dean ran his hand through his hair and heaved himself onto the top of the Impala, a paper bag, with grease seeping out of a bottom corner, in hand. Castiel reclined back against the windshield next to Dean as the evening sun began to set. Castiel closed his eyes, feeling the warm rays engulf him as he listened to the rustling of the autumn leaves.  Castiel smiled contently as he heard another sort of rustling, Dean’s hand in the paper bag. The sounds fused with the beat of “Ramble On”, which was quietly playing from the Impala’s stereo. Dean pulled out the two hamburgers and took half of the wrapping off each. He carefully surveyed them as Castiel cocked his head. Dean finally smiled and handed the one in his left had to Cas.

“This one’s got more cheese.” Dean held the burger out to Castiel, who just shook his head.

“Dean, you know I do not need food.”

“Oh, shut up. What’d you think? I was buying two for myself? C’mon, You know

you want it.” Dean waved the burger in front of Castiel’s face; Castiel smiled accepting the burger. They sat in silence for a while, eating and continuing their conversation of Castiel’s search for his Father. Castiel complained but remained confident, Dean didn’t voice his doubts, not wanting to rain on Castiel’s parade. Besides, Castiel already knew Dean’s opinions on the matter anyway, even though Dean never voiced them. Dean suppressed a chuckle as Cas became riled up at the mention of Zachariah. Castiel calmed down once Dean coudn’t control his laughter any longer.

“What?” Cas turned to look at Dean who just continued smiling and chuckling to himself. Castiel relaxed and closed his eyes again, their vocal conversation turning into a silent one. As time passed, Castiel slowly felt the warmth of the sun fade away. His face became cool and the heat emitting from the Impala’s hood became noticeable.  He opened his eyes to see the orange haze glow along the horizon. He sighed thoughtfully.

           

“I know.” Dean said softly as he looked out at the view in front of him. Dean seemed at a loss for words; how could a day like this even exist? He continued to take in the lowering sun as the glow disappeared and night settled around them. The brilliant stars began to emerge in the clear sky; Dean couldn’t resist resting his head on the windshield and staring.  Dean loved nights like these, nights off, a time he could just sit and relax and could just ignore the doom that constantly hung over their heads. Words couldn’t explain the appreciation Dean had for times like these.

 

He missed when he had these nights with Sam, but Sam wasn’t up for it yet. Dean wished he could just forgive and forget about the whole demon blood thing, and all about the unlocking of Lucifer’s cage; sometimes Dean felt he had. But one of the two brothers always seemed to bring it up one way or another.  Dean was most upset because with the weight of the apocalypse resting on Dean’s shoulders, the person he had always turned to couldn’t be of assistance; Dean couldn’t go running to Sam every time he wanted to curse out the bastard that had started the apocalypse.

 

            Dean began using Castiel as surrogate brother, calling to him and complaining to him once he arrived. Castiel took all of Dean’s concerns to heart at first, making a mental note of every word, every pitch, every facial expression, and would go out to try and fix it for Dean, to relieve Dean of the burden he was forced to carry. But after a while, Castiel realized that what Dean really wanted was someone to talk to, someone who would listen. This revelation didn’t stop Castiel from running himself ragged trying to fix conflicts that arose for Dean, but it did make their times together more enjoyable. Castiel allotted himself a significant amount of time to spend with Dean; he did his best to quickly complete his angelic duties then go to Dean, however, on more than one occasion Castiel had abandoned his current responsibility to answer Dean’s call. Castiel started staying longer, and coming on his own; he came on his own accord just as often as Dean called him.

 

            Castiel opened his eyes and stared at the stars; the bright little orbs always captured Castiel’s attention. However, Castiel observed them it couldn’t help but notice a lack of luster; It wasn’t until recently that a pair of emerald eyes outshined them. The thought crossed his mind that this moment would be his heaven and all the details would be included: the chill of the fall air with the heat of the Impala’s engine radiating from the hood, the smell of Dean’s beloved cheeseburgers, the silent conversation the two were having and the constant brush of Dean’s shoulder against his own. Castiel turned his head toward Dean, Castiel’s cheek resting on the glass of the windshield. Dean wore a shy smile as he gazed at the sky and the charcoal clouds that peacefully invaded the night sky. _Yes._ Castiel thought, _Yes, this would be my heaven._

Dean slid off the hood of the car and cracked his back as he babbled on about an album Castiel would love. Cas smiled as he hopped down, his feet making a small thud on the damp ground. A small glint flickered from the grass and caught Cas’ eye. He bent over and examined the little wonder. Castiel found it to be a marble and he couldn’t help noticing the similarities the emerald glass had to Dean’s eyes.

 

            “I’m tellin’ you Cas, there’s nothin’ like the classi… _Dammit Cas!”_ Castiel jerked up at the sudden outburst, the marble slipped into his pocket.

 

            “What is the matter?” Castiel stared at Dean, who seemed both surprised and happy, the anger melting from his face.

            “Oh, sorry, I uh, I thought I’d lost ya.” He chuckled a bit, wanting to drop the conversation that was sure to ensue. He had no such luck as Castiel peered at him confusedly. “I thought you’d poofed away or whatever.” Dean looked away from the soul piercing gaze of Castiel. He swung his leg aiming to kick the tire of the Impala, however, last minute he switched his aim and kicked a of clump dirt with the toe of his boot.

           

            “I would not leave without saying good-bye, Dean.” The hurt emotion in Castiel’s force brought Dean’s eyes up from the oh-so-interesting grass.

 

            “You have before.” Other thoughts and secrets bubbled to Dean’s mind but he forced himself to ignore them. A brief silence hung in the air, Castiel surely replaying every single departure. Castiel sighed sadly; he’d never noted before, how sudden a majority his departures were.

            “I know. I apologize, Dean…”

            “You don’t have to Cas. It’s not a big deal.”

            “It is important to you. Is it not?” Dean remained silent, answering a question Castiel already knew the answer to. “Dean, I wish to explain. Please, don’t argue with me about this. Thank you. Dean, good-byes are not a preference of mine. As you know, I have numerous duties to preform in heaven and quite often I’m forced to return. I’d much rather stay here, with you. And Sam,” Castiel added, “I try to say good-bye, but I am weak, Dean. The longer a good-bye, the more I convince myself to stay. Good-byes are my ‘kryptonite’.” Dean laughed, partially at the reference and how cautiously Cas had said it but mainly his stiff fingers making air quotes.

           

            “Yeah, Good-byes suck, no doubt about that. I get it.” Dean paused looking at the fog slowly creeping in the sky. “But still…”

            “You’d prefer a parting farewell.” Castiel finished his thought. Dean nodded as Castiel smiled and parted his mouth.

            “Hey, we still got a little time, right? Let’s not practice, right this second.” Dean then climbed into the car to escape the chill of the air. Castiel followed suit. Dean revved the engine but left the car in park. Castiel had unconsciously pulled the marble from his pocket, as he let it roll around in the palm of his hand.

            “What do ya got there Cas?” Dean peered over as Cas smiled sheepishly.

            “It is a marble. I found it in the grass.”

            “Is that what you were doin over there? What haven’t you ever seen a marble before?” Dean grinned.

            “Yes, but this one…this one is special.” Dean’s teasing grin softened to a serious smile. He held his hand out tentatively.

            “Can I see it?” Cas dropped the emerald orb into his palm and he examined it carefully.

            “I admit it Cas. It’s pretty awesome. Most gorgeous marble _I’ve_ ever seen.” Dean handed back to Cas who looked at it once more before putting it back into his pocket. Cas thought about the marble and the shockingly identical comparison to Dean’s eyes. He agreed with Dean. _Most beautiful marble I have ever seen as well._

 

It was quiet again for a moment as Dean places his hands in front of the vents. Cas looked over at Dean, who returned the gaze.

 

            “Dean, I would very much enjoy listening to that album you mentioned.” Dean smiled a toothy grin as he reached into the glove and grabbed the cassette, his cheek muscles aching slightly from the excessive smiling they’d been doing in the past couple hours.

            “You got it, bud.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean shut the hotel room door a little louder than he intended, as he saw Sam glance up from his laptop.

“Get to bed, Sammy.” Dean’s voice a little gruff as he felt the weight of the world creep back onto his shoulders. Dean wanted to forget all about it and just ride out the good feelings he got from Cas right into unconsciousness. And Sam rushing around researching until dawn, trying to outthink the apocalypse, would definitely get in the way of that.

  
“Dean…” Sam began to protest but gave up, choosing to simply ignore Dean. Dean flopped on one of the motel room beds looked towards the ceiling; memories of a gruff laughter emerged as his thoughts drifted to Castiel. He sat up quickly trying to redirect his thoughts.

I just saw the guy not ten minutes ago. Cas has angel stuff to do. He can’t beam himself down to earth just so I can fall asleep. Dean shook his head as Sam eyed him suspiciously. Dean didn’t notice; he was too focused on not thinking of Castiel. They had become so in tuned with one another, Dean merely had to have a passing thought about Castiel before he heard the flutter of wings and gruff “Hello, Dean.” He lay back down.

“Sam, c’mon just go to bed. Whatever you’re doing can wait ‘til morning.” Dean silently prayed Sam wouldn’t respond with some quip about the apocalypse.

  
“Yeah, it’s just the end of the…”

  
“Sam. Go to bed.” Sam wouldn’t have acquiesced if Dean didn’t sound so exhausted, so pleading. Dean heard a click of a closing laptop and a shuffle of footsteps, followed by a squeak of whining bed springs. He smiled softly and waited to hear the snores of his giant of a little brother. It took longer than usual but Dean finally heard the heavy breathing and he was finally able to relax. He let himself sink into the mattress, letting all the weight and sorrow be absorbed. His stiff legs clumsily found their way under the covers. Dean rolled to his side and his arms retreated to hide themselves underneath his head. His thoughts drifted to Cas again. He attempted to redirect his thoughts but he didn’t put all that much effort into it. He secretly wished Cas would hear his dreamy thoughts, and drop by. Besides, thinking of Cas was about the only that got Dean to sleep these days.

  
Dean’s face melted into the pillow as sleep over took him. His dream started out as it normally did. Dean was resting on the couch in Bobby’s living room and Cas was sitting beside him. They were watching Back to the Future; one of many movies that Dean insisted Cas watch to gain some sort of pop culture competency. Sam was passed out on the chair next to the couch and Bobby was in library. The dream played off an old memory that didn’t quite play out the way Dean wished. In the memory, the scene stopped here. They finished the rest of the movie and started the second one. Dean had fallen asleep and awoke propped up on the couch. Dean always reinvented the memory when falling asleep, always imaged that he’d fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder and that Cas had held him while he slept.

  
Dean’s dream shifted however. A scream erupted from the man that held him. He turned to see Cas strung up on meat hooks being charred alive. Cas had tears streaming down his face but he simply spoke “it’s okay Dean.” Dean looked down to see that his hands held the angelic blade that sliced Cas’ skin. Dean dropped the blade and tried to rescue Cas however the dream just became more horrific.

  
Dean awoke with a start. His body was drenched in sweat and he struggled to breathe, the air catching in his throat as if refusing to enrich his begging lungs. His body quivered and he felt paralyzed in the bed. His mind replayed the horrible dream, highlighting the most horrible and gruesome parts. It was Hell. He had been dreaming of Hell, only it wasn’t past memories that haunted him, this was a new Hell. Flashes of a bloody trench coat and the smell of burning ebony wings made Dean’s head swirl. He choked as he tried to pull himself up. He didn’t even hear the flutter of wings as Castiel stood near the edge of the bed. Castiel, looking both infuriated and concerned, sat down and placed two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean’s urge to vomit vanished along with his aching muscles and shortness of breath. His body relaxed more than he thought humanly possible.

 

Right, it’s Cas, It isn’t human relaxation.

Dean now took in gulps of air, though he was reluctantly trying to stop hyperventilating. He couldn’t help but focus on the orange and brown 70s bedspread as his thoughts slowed. While instead of racing around one another, his thoughts leisurely dipped and weaved in choreographed dance; it was a nice change of pace. As Dean grew accustomed to the new relaxation, Castiel had stood and backed away from the bed, now standing awkwardly to the side. As if not being able to make up his mind, Castiel sat back down on the edge of the bed. The cheap mattress squeaked as it took on his weight. He sat quietly for a moment, unsure what he wanted to do. He held his hand out, wavering, hovering over Dean’s side. Castiel wasn’t sure how much ‘personal space’ was allotted in times like these. Castiel laid his hand on Dean’s side and when he wasn’t pushed away he rubbed comfortingly up along Dean’s ribcage down to his waist. Dean’s breath returned to normal and he pretended he wasn’t scared Cas would move away. Minutes passed as Castiel continued to soothe Dean before either one spoke.

  
“Dean, are you okay?” Dean nodded in response. “I think. I believe Zachariah is torturing you to convince you to say yes Michael.” Castiel said each word with care as if trying to remain calm. Dean took in a deep breath, a breath that didn’t go unnoticed by Cas. Castiel felt like he was being torn in a million different directions. His Brothers and Sisters were calling out to him; he had once again abandoned his post. He wanted to go after Zachariah, to torture him. He wanted to find his Father, who could stop this madness. But most of all he wanted to stay here with Dean. He wanted to protect Dean. So he stayed. He sat on the edge of the bed his hand rubbing Dean’s side for the rest of the night. Dean had fallen back asleep after an hour or so; even then Castiel continued to move his hand up and down the side of Dean’s body.

Whenever Dean’s body would tense up he’d place two fingers to his temple and chase away the evil thoughts Zachariah tried to plant. Castiel memorized every curve and crease of Dean’s face that night. He concentrated on every twitch and twinge looking for signs of distress. Half way through the night he felt Dean’s side go numb from the constant rubbing. Castiel moved to Dean’s back and noticed Dean’s face loosen as he fused into the pillow. Castiel sat diligently as the hours passed. He heard Sam stir in the bed next to them, but his gaze never left Dean. A moment of silence, Castiel figured it was Sam’s eye sight adjusting.

“Cas?” Sam seemed dazed and confused. Castiel held a finger to his mouth to silence Sam.  
“He is recovering.” Cas whispered as Dean stirred to the sound of the angel’s voice.  
“Recovering? Recovering from what?” Castiel twinged from the volume of Sam’s nervous voice. Sam rose quickly.  
“I will explain later.” Cas whispered again.  
“What happened?” Sam’s voice rose louder and Dean sighed heavily in his sleep.  
“He is FINE. I will. explain. later.” Castiel glared at Sam, restraining himself from literally taking away Sam’s voice. Dean rolled over and Castiel found his hand stroking his chest and abdomen. The corners of Dean’s mouth pulled up in a small smile. Castiel smiled back at the sleeping Dean, as warmth seemed to course through his own chest. Castiel paused his hand over Dean’s heart and listened to the rhythmic beating. Sam cleared his throat behind him as he stretched and walked to the bathroom. Castiel looked to see the back of Sam’s mop as he closed the door. Castiel’s gaze returned to Dean who was now squinting through his eyelashes.

Dean slowly opened his eyes to see the angel in his trench coat sitting on the bed and followed the warmth radiating on his chest to the hand placed over his heart. Dean wished he felt uncomfortable being this close to Cas and having this intimate of a moment, but he really wanted to feign sleep and stay in this position. It was too late for that though.

“Mornin’” Dean grinned. He remained still, worried any moment would scare Cas away.  
“Good morning, Dean. How do you feel?” Castiel questioned as he inspected Dean.  
“Good. And you?” Castiel looked up for a moment, Dean always pleasantly surprised Castiel.  
“I am well. Thank you, Dean.” It seemed Dean was the only one who ever asked how Castiel was doing. They sat in this position for a while as they listened to the running water from the shower. Castiel reluctantly withdrew his hand and Dean sat up as if connected.

Dean could feel the warmth and lightness leave his chest; he attempted to hide his discontent. Castiel found himself entranced in the brilliant green eyes of Dean, however, and didn’t notice the momentary change in Dean’s demeanor. Dean cracked his neck as Castiel looked disapprovingly.

“Thanks by the way. For last night.” Dean immediately went red as numerous memories of this morning after conversation flooded his mind.

“You are welcome, Dean.” Castiel’s eyes glanced over Dean, inspecting him again. “You seem to be much better.”

“Yeah, actually I am. That dream was…”  
“Torturous. I understand Dean, you do not have to relive it.” Castiel didn’t meet the emerald eyes this time. Dean nodded.  
“Cas, did you see my dream?”  
“No. I felt your distress, your pain. And I heard you screaming my name.”  
“Oh.” Dean sighed tiredly. Well at least he didn’t see anything.

  
They both turned their heads to the silence in the bathroom; Sam had turned off the water. Dean stood and clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, his fingers secretly feeling the strength and wholeness of his body. Dean squeezed him tightly, proving to himself that Cas was indeed safe and well. Castiel could sense his fear and discomfort; Cas had lied when he told Dean he hadn’t seen the dream, but he knew it would only cause Dean more grief if he knew Castiel knew the events of the dream. Cas stood and embraced Dean in a hug. Their limbs awkwardly surrounded each other at first. But soon, their bodies seemed to find their perfect positions so every bone and muscle molded together. They were completely and utterly one being, not two halves but one whole.

Dean couldn’t recognize where his body ended and Cas’ began; he felt himself slump further against Cas, ignoring the nagging voice that reminded him he shouldn’t be enjoying this. Castiel tiredly rested his head on Dean’s sturdy shoulder, becoming more and more intoxicated with the Dean’s scent of moist earth and leather. Dean’s eyes shut heavily as he pleaded that they wouldn’t be forced to part. A new thought that forced its way past the nagging judgments and shone brightly in Dean’s mind: He could gladly stay in this position for the rest of his life, and be nothing short of blissfully complete.

* * *

Sam quickly dried off his face with the questionable hotel hand towel. He threw a flannel shirt, then added two additional layers as he continued to stall. I really should go out there and check on Dean. He continued to fidget with the buttons on his outer jacket. He had been worried about his brother, but knowing Castiel’s hands were the safest place Dean could be didn’t exactly propel him to comfort his brother. Sam’s time in the shower had caused his emotions to shift from concerned to slightly annoyed. He missed the concern; it seemed that his constant emotion was frustration. One would think with the end of the world approaching with no definite way out concern would be his primary emotion; Sam was in no such luck.

Sam decided it was time to suck it up and face what ever lied in wait for him. He reluctantly walked out of the bathroom and found Dean pulling a grey t-shirt over his head. Sam glanced over him and saw no physical signs of damage. It took him a moment to realize they were alone.  
“Hey,” Sam called and Dean turned as he grabbed his leather jacket off the edge of the bed. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and nodded a greeting to Sam. “So, what’s going on?” Dean looked around and shrugged.  
“Nothin’.”  
“I mean what happened?” Sam prodded tentatively, testing the waters with Dean. A flicker of recognition lit up Dean’s face as his rose his eyebrows. He quickly squinted as if bored by the memory and gave another shrug.

“Oh, that. Nothin’. Our friendly neighborhood pain in my ass, Zachariah decided to pay a little visit.” Sam instinctively stiffened but let Dean continue without interrupting, “Lucky for me the bastard’s imagination is lacking.” The words fell like lead through the air as Dean had a quick flash of a crying Cas and the smell of charred wings fill his nose. He winced involuntarily, but quickly shrugged it off, wishing they could just drop the whole thing.

“Wait, what?” Sam would allow his brother to play it off like nothing happened as long as he at least knew what ‘Nothing’ was. Dean rolled his eyes as if annoyed that Sam wasn’t catching on quick enough, a habit picked up from another angelic friend.  
“The dude probed my brain, gave me some vivid dreams of hell, and paralyzed me so that I couldn’t ignore them. He’s trying to scare me into saying yes to Michael.”  
“What?” Sam exclaimed, a little more than irritated now, “Why didn’t you wake me?”  
“Dude, I’m fine. It wasn’t that big a deal.”  
“Wasn’t that big of a deal? Castiel was hovering around you like you were going to die! The guy nearly bit my head off when I asked what was wrong.” Sam left out the tid bit of Castiel’s intimate remedy; he knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk about it, that was if he was even coherent enough to remember it.  
“Cas’ a little overprotective.” Dean defended as he avoided Sam’s gaze. Okay, Dean is totally blushing. Sam chuckled, which was rewarded by an irritated, “What?”, which could in no way be mistaken as a question.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel decides that he's going to do whatever it takes to free Dean from Michael's grasp.The ordeal is extremely painful and pushes everyone halfway of the edge, however, lots of cuddling is needed afterwards so maybe it's worth it.

Castiel charged through the pure marble hallway of one of Heaven’s offices. A certain demeanor was customary, required, when in Heaven’s office buildings, however, no one dared to correct the fury that surrounded Castiel. Other angels glanced and raised eyebrows at one another.

_What did Zachariah do this time?_

_He should know to just leave the Winchesters alone._

_WinchesteR._

_What’s he supposed to do? Feel the wrath of Michael?_

_I don’t know; I would not want to submit myself to Castiel anytime soon._

 

It was agreed amongst the angels that the rumors were true; Castiel had become too attached to his charges, especially considering they were not even his official responsibility anymore.

 

Castiel marched to the glass doors of an office and he had to compose himself before he shattered the glass into a million pieces, and embedded those fragments into the vermin he sought. He entered the office nothing short of livid, and was met with an gleeful Zachariah.

 

            “Well, hello Castiel. Please sit, I see you’d like to have a chat.” Castiel was pleased that for once the coward, Zachariah, wasn’t flanked by his two bodyguards; he smiled and Zachariah failed to hide the momentary flash of fear from his face.

            “Ah, yes. I do believe a _chat_ ,” Castiel spat the word, “is in order.” Zachariah was suddenly not so keen on any alone time with Castiel.

            “Well, I am a busy body Castiel, maybe a later time would be…”

            “Stop talking now.” Castiel glared down at his sorry excuse for a brother. “You will never invade the thoughts, dreams, mind, or presence of Dean Winchester again.”

            “Or wha-“

            “Or I will end you.” The doubt and shock that emitted from Zachariah was passing but evident.

            “Oh, Castiel, I would hope you’d be smart enough not to threaten me.” Doubt radiated from Zachariah, feeding the machine that was Castiel.

            “It is not a threat. It is a promise.” Zachariah felt the warning radiate through him. He began to retort but was once again interrupted and silenced by Castiel. “Yes, Zachariah, I understand the position you are in.” Castiel’s condescending voice dripped of ridicule and mockery. “It is your duty to convince Dean to say yes. And please, continue your endeavors, just know that if you even attempt to cause any pain to Dean, directly or indirectly, I will replace the stairway to hell with the fragments of your wings and grace.”

 

*          *          *

 

Castiel appeared back in the hotel room. It was empty besides the duffle bag sitting on the far right bed and toolbox on the rickety table. Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and relived the memory of the night prior. He smiled contently and laid down on the bed. Castiel was exhausted. After his confrontation with Zachariah, he had been beaming himself from place to place, both reviewing lore with Bobby and checking in on Sam and Dean. He had been scanning books, his mind, and over forty five countries this afternoon looking for a solution to the vessel catastrophe. His intimidation technique this morning with Zachariah wouldn’t last long. _As Dean would say, he’s a persistent son of a bitch._ Cas smiled again and allowed himself to feel the comfort of the bed. _Maybe these humans had it right with this whole sleeping ordeal._

 

Castiel didn’t relax for long as the problem at hand arose again. There was no way out as far as Cas could tell. Dean’s destiny was to be the vessel, everything that happened in the history of the world and before happened so this would be so.

 

 _So much for Team Free Will._  

 

As long as Michael needed a vessel, it was going to happen. Dean was Michael’s vessel, and while Michael needed Dean’s permission to use this vessel, Dean was property of Michael. The idea infuriated Castiel. As if Dean would ever volunteer to be someone’s property. _If Dean was to be property of anyone, it would be me._ This idea was even more alarming to Castiel; however, the bell couldn’t be un-rung.

 

*          *          *

Dean tramped up the stairs to the hotel room, Sam in toe. Sam had been teasing Dean the whole drive home and Dean kept up the sarcastic retorts. While the constant bantering at Dean’s expense was becoming a little irritating, Dean didn’t dare discourage it. It had been too long since they had had this much fun.

           

It had been a long day. What they thought was just another hunt turned into a new horrible ordeal. One would have thought they wouldn’t be surprise by these turn in events, but nevertheless they always were. They presumably were hunting a lone vampire, however they didn’t realize the ‘lone’ vampire wasn’t so much solo but the leader of something much bigger; one vampire turned to thirteen. It took them a long while and a hard fight. Dean was still irritated that two had escaped but figured _A win was a win right?_ Dean unlocked the door to the hotel room to find Cas sprawled on the bed. Dean immediately became worried as he rushed to the bed, images of his nightmare resurfacing.

 

            “Cas? Cas. Are you okay?” Dean’s voice shook with urgency but Cas merely turned his head to the side and smiled at Dean.

            “Yes, I am okay.” Dean’s heart rate climbed back down to a semi-normal pace, though his heart rate was always a little elevated around Cas.

            “Why are you laying down?”

            “Because I was tired, Dean.” Cas seemed a little confused by Dean’s confusion and worry.

            “Are you gonna make me beg for this whole damn conversation or….” Cas sat up and stretched his shoulders.

            “I have been very busy today.”

            “And…”

            “And I am about to make you extremely irritated.” Castiel admitted.

            “Why?” Dean asked nervously.

            “See, if I suggest this solution you will become angry with me for suggesting it. But if I don’t mention it, I believe your wrath will be much worse then. So, I believe I can stop Michael from claiming you as his vessel. But not only will the process be extremely tortuous, it will also go against every moral you have.”

            “Cas, just tell me.”

            “You are Michael’s property. While he still has to ask you for permission to use you as a vessel you are _his._ The only way to free you from being his vessel is to free you from being his property.”

            “Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad. How’d we do that?”

            “We, well I, would have to make you the property of another angel. Preferably an angel that will not bow down to Michael when the time comes.” Cas let the question hang in the air as Dean drew the obvious conclusion.

            “So what I become property of Castiel?” Cas mistook Dean’s urgency as offense.

            “Only in a sense. I would never make you be my vessel or make you do anything you did not want to. I believe everything would be the exact same as it is now.”

            “Well of course you wouldn’t Cas. I’m saying how do we do this? If I’m already technically Michael’s then you claim me, can’t he just claim me back?” Cas realized his misread and relaxed.

            “No. You are only his because of bloodline. He hasn’t actually claimed you. He believes no one is idiotic enough to get in his way so he never bothered with the ritual. Once you are the _official_ property of one angel, the bond his binding; it cannot be broken.”

            “Okay, so let’s do it.” Dean nodded as Sam remained silent in the background. He shifted his stance, thinking over the whole situation. Dean looked back at Sam for approval though he did only as a courtesy.

            “I’m with Dean, I guess. If you think it’ll actually work, then yeah, let’s do it.”

            “Neither of you have even asked what the ritual ensues. It is basically torture. I will have to brand every single limb, bone, muscle, tissue, every cell.”

            “What? I’m assuming I’m not gonna have ‘Property of Castiel’ as a tramp stamp. You’ve carved into our ribs before, I mean that was uncomfortable but…”

            “Yes, I _carved_ into you. This is branding. My grace will be searing every single fiber of your being at the same time. This process could take a matter or seconds or a matter days. There is no way to tell how long. It could be ten minutes and you might need thirty more seconds of endurance or five more days. You’ll only know its duration when it’s completed.”

            “Cas, just stop. What’s our other option here? I can handle it. We’ll be fine.”

            “Dean, I…”

            “Cas, we’re doing this.”

 

*          *          *

 

Sam threw back his head as he gulped the last swig of beer. He set the empty amber bottle next to its numerous friends. His head swirled a bit and he noticed a silence in the air. He sat and listened to the silence, searching. Was it really silence or was he finally drunk enough to tune it out? He waited and still couldn’t decide. He picked up the bottle and smashed it on the ground, the pieces scattering across Bobby’s kitchen floor. _Yep, I definitely heard that._ Sam pleaded his drunk mind’s reasoning was solid. If it really was silence he heard, the ritual was finally complete. Sam wanted to stand and go see his brother, but he was too exhausted. Not to mention, he was worried if he truly _wanted_ to see his brother. _God knows what’s he looks like right now, let alone what kind of mood he’s in._

For the past fifty-two hours, Sam had sat in the kitchen drinking to drown out the screams of his brother. Bobby gave up at hour twenty-seven; Sam wanted nothing more but to leave with Bobby and just wait for the call from Cas, but he couldn’t leave. So he sat and drank. The more he sat in the silence now he was glad he’d stayed; Cas was all consumed with Dean, ( _as usual,_ thought Sam), he probably wouldn’t think to leave Dean’s side for even a sixty second phone call, or even a five second drop in. Sam pushed on his knees as he stood. He managed to walk down to the safe room without stumbling and tentatively went to knock on the door. Before Sam’s fist made contact he found himself inside, with a hovering Castiel and a sleeping Dean.

 

            “It is done.”

            “Thank God.” Sam couldn’t help noticing how frazzled Castiel looked; his hair was more out of place than usual, he had lost weight and seemed to have developed dark black bags beneath his eyes. The sight sobered Sam. Sam also observed Cas seemed to twitch at every breath Dean took. “You okay?”

            “Dean cannot hear you right now. I knocked him out so he can recover properly.”

            “That’s good, but I was actually asking you.”

            “I just finished torturing my…” Castiel seemed at loss for words; he exhaled deeply as if trying to purge all his emotions.  “It is finished.” Castiel sat down on the edge of the cot next to Dean.

            “You should lie down Cas, get some rest. I don’t care how angelically awesome your powers are, you need some sleep or something.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair when Bobby popped back into his head. “Damn, I forgot. I told Bobby I’d call him as soon as it was done.” Sam turned and jogged back up the stairs. He really did wish Castiel would take a break but he knew he wouldn’t. Sam walked into the make shift phone bank, they called the living room, and grabbed his cell from the mantel.

 

*          *          *

 

Castiel laid a cautious hand on Dean. _This is helping him. Michael will not be able to force him to do anything now. This helped. I was helping._ Castiel could chant these mantras for the remainder of his life but it wouldn’t chase away the guilt he felt as Dean’s screams of agony replayed in his mind. His tired body laid itself down next to Dean. Like their first hug, the two bodies awkwardly squashed against each other on the single cot, but after an adjustment or two they infused together. Castiel chin rested on top of Dean’s head, and he wrapped his arms around him. The unconscious Dean rolled to his side, intertwined their legs and buried his face into the crook of Cas’ neck; his hand crawled up Cas’ side and gripped the angel’s trench coat, holding on.  Castiel had never felt so calm and sleep overtook him quickly.

            Dean while asleep and unconscious was still aware, somewhat anyway. He clung to Castiel, his biggest fear always being that Cas would pull away. His body was tired from the ritual; while he had been burning alive he was now just an ember of the flames. The warmth of the pain was almost soothing and Dean could barely form dreams he was so tired. His mind wandered from memory to memory, too exhausted to imagine a new scene. He found a few select memories play out and then begin again, as if they were set on repeat.

            The first memory was of a Fourth of July, the time him and Sammy had set off fireworks in the woods. Dean could smell the waft of smoke and feel the sparks hit the tips of his fingers as he lit the red and white fuse. He heard the elated laughter of his little brother behind him and the squeal of the rocket. Euphoric joy welled in his chest as he turned to see the smile on his brother’s face. This was a memory he hadn’t visited in awhile and he soaked up every detail as he relived it.

            The next memory took him a moment to place. The sultry music was too loud and at first the abundance of red velvet fogged his vision. It wasn’t until his third time viewing was he able to focus on the terrified face in front of him, then it all flooded back; it was the time he took Castiel to that ‘den of iniquity’. Dean deviated from the memory as he laughed out loud, the laughter shaking his body to the core. Castiel’s terrified eyes and stern jaw line kept Dean from paying attention to any other part of the memory. What had he been thinking? Taking Castiel to a brothel? Castiel continued to play out the scene oblivious to the peanut gallery. Had Dean been paying attention when this scene actually took place? There was no way he could have kept a straight face throughout any of it if he had.

           

Dean smiled in his dreamlike state; his mind became side tracked as he relived every happy memory he had with Cas. Dean was shocked that in every single memory the thought that played through his head at the time was _Life can’t get any better than this._ Yet time after time, Cas would contradict him. The thought struck Dean hard as he realized that, that was just the way it was with Cas, each moment different from the next, every day a new level of happiness.

 

That as happy as he was now, as perfect as the moment currently was, in the future it would be better, happier, if he had Castiel by his side.

 

*          *          *

 

Sam hung up the phone, the loud click of the receiver rung through the house. Sam ran his fingers through his amber brown mane as he sulked.  Bobby had decided to return in an hour or so; he was relieved that the whole ordeal was over but he didn’t want to be around until there was a conscious person to talk to. Sam could understand that; he understood it too well, which is why he really wished Bobby would just suck it up and come over.

            Sam was suddenly happy Castile only listened to Dean. At least he could converse with Cas, even though the conversation would be lacking. Sam walked through the living room on his way to the safe room. _Cas will probably only want to sit and watch Dean, but hey company is company right?_ Sam felt a little guilty for his selfishness; if anyone truly needed rest it was Castiel, but Sam couldn’t deny how much he was looking forward to talking with someone.

            Sam bounded down the stairs and pushed open the door, the hinges squeaking slightly.

 

            “How’s he do-” Sam stopped as he saw Castiel and his brother crammed on the twin cot. _Now he listens to me._ While Sam was disappointed his conversation partner wasn’t available, he couldn’t stop the gleeful smile spread across his face. He shook his head as the continued to stare at the pair on the cot. _Knew it._

*          *          *

Castiel awoke with his lips buried into Dean’s hair; the faint waft of soap infused in Dean’s hair was becoming a familiar scent to Castiel. Dean’s breathing was deeper, stronger, than that of his sleeping state. Wondering if Dean had awoken, Castiel reluctantly pulled his head away to get a better look at Dean, however, he barely moved when he was pulled back down.

            “Dean?” Cas whispered and received a grumbled _Yea._ “How are you feeling?” There was a slight pause before Dean mumbled,

            “Great, actually. Really, great.” Cas, while pleased with the answer, still wanted to inspect Dean. He once again attempted to lift himself up. ‘Don’t.’ was the only response he received as Dean’s grip around Castiel’s trench coat tightened. Castiel looked down to see a blue and green quilt draped over them; Castiel hadn’t noticed it until now. He couldn’t remember where it came from either. Castiel’s thoughts returned to those of Dean.

            “Dean, please. I wish to examine you.” Cas said it softly; it _was_ important to Castiel to inspect Dean, but if Dean protested, Cas would happily oblige.

            “Later.” Dean managed, as he still wanted to sleep but more importantly didn’t want to move.

            “I should let you rest, if you are that exhausted.” Castiel sadly unwove himself from Dean, but received a quick jab from in the ribs.

            “I swear to God, Cas, if you try to move, I’ll kill you.” Dean winced at his own threat, even if it was in jest.

            “That would be tremendously ambitious of you, Dean.”  Dean smiled at the reference.

            “Don’t tempt me.”

Cas continued to hold Dean as they both laid there in silence. Dean thought of feigning sleep but decided against it. There was no point; he knew Castiel could tell if he was faking, and Castiel would never call him out on it. Dean would only be pretending for himself, so he rested his eyelids but didn’t bother with fake snores or heavy breathing. Over an hour passed as they lay like this, but to them it felt only a few minutes before they heard intruding footsteps coming down the stairs. Dean noticed one person was particularly loud as their footfalls clamored down the steps.

            “Would you like me to stand?” Cas spoke quietly as Dean remained quiet. In silence, he continued to lay intertwined with Cas, for moment, before he stood up himself, purposefully avoiding the question. Dean had come to terms with the fact that Cas wasn’t just a friend anymore, but he hadn’t mapped out exactly where they were currently either. All Dean knew was that Cas’ arms was the best place he’d ever been and would ever be, and that if Dean could pick one person to spend the rest of eternity with…

            Dean wasn’t ready to explain his feelings to Cas, let alone anyone who wasn’t involved. It was already known to Dean that Cas understood him better than anyone. It puzzled Dean sometimes; how could he be such an open book to Cas, when half the time, Dean didn’t have an idea what was milling around in his own head. Dean admitted his cowardly nature to himself, as he secretly hoped he’d never have to explain it to Cas, that Cas would just get it and accept it.

            Dean walked a couple steps, his gate more bowlegged than usual because of their stiffness. He stretched and could feel his muscles strain; they radiated heat. As he quietly flexed, Castiel stood and folded the old quilt, placing it on the old desk that was pushed against one of the walls. There was a loud knock on the door right as Castiel’s fingers traced the edge of the quilted pattern. Dean looked towards the knock as he realized he was once again sitting on the bed. _Dammit Cas._

            Castiel strode to the metal door and easily swung it open. Bobby grunted a greeting as he walked in, Sam followed, a smile plastered on his face

            “What? Not gonna beam us in?” Bobby’s quizzical look directed to Sam’s amiable attitude, went unnoticed.

            “I figured that Bobby would prefer traditional transportation.” Castiel deadpanned.

            “Good thinkin’.” Bobby said gruffly as they all turned their attention to Dean, who had pushed himself back into a standing position. Castiel’s eyes narrowed and Dean avoided the gaze. Bobby seemed surprised at Dean’s consciousness and ability to stand, yet Sam was the one to say,

            “So, you’re up? How do ya feel? Did you rest up well?” Dean couldn’t quite place it, but something about Sam’s fan-girl smile made him a little uneasy.

            “Yeah, actually I feel great. Never slept better.” _Though it has a close second._ Dean thought of his night of nightmares and Castiel’s presence then too. Dean’s thoughts meandered off on their own path getting lost in a reverie. Sam had been biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from seeming so giddy, but Dean’s response and the hovering Castiel made it impossible for him to conceal his wide grin. Dean was now the one to narrow his eyes as he became more suspicious.

            “So, you think it worked, Cas?” Bobby was still inspecting Dean as Castiel’s eyes followed his every move.

            “I know it was successful.” The thoughts _He is mine_ and _He is property of Castiel_ sing-songed in his head, but he would never be so bold to voice them. He hadn’t noticed it before but he could _feel_ his ownership of Dean. While they already shared a more profound bond, the physical aspect of it was weakened when Castiel had carved the anti-angel symbols into their ribs. It now was restored and strengthened ten fold. Cas wasn’t sure if he truly felt his ownership of Dean from the ritual or just the knowledge of his willingness to be owned by Cas. Cas loved knowing that Dean only trusted _him_ to be awarded this responsibility.

 

            Castiel had noticed their shift in relationship but couldn’t pinpoint at what time the shift occurred. They had always loved each other, always trusted each other and had faith in one another. They understood each other better than each understood himself. Their relationship was never shallow or normal, but it certainly wasn’t _always_ romantic. Castiel couldn’t identify when he stopped loving Dean as a charge, and began loving him as a friend, let alone when his devotion of a friend developed into something more. Their love was always there; it just merely evolved. And Cas was getting the feeling that Dean was finally catching on.

 

            Castiel once again unconsciously gravitated to Dean, his fingers aching to reach out and feel Dean’s skin. Dean noticed the way Cas’ fingers clenched and unclenched as he fiddled with the belt of his trench coat. Somehow Cas managed to restrain himself to fidgeting and Dean was only slightly grateful. Dean was jerked back into reality as Bobby cleared his throat. Bobby looked away as he felt he was intruding on a private moment and he struggled to think of a change in subject. Or any subject for that matter considering no one had said a word for close to three minutes.

           

            “SO, um, I was lookin’ through some newspaper articles this mornin’. There seems to be some _interesting_ stories occurring in Washington.” Bobby tried to see the article clippings he had tucked into his jacket, which was now hanging on the back of a chair in the kitchen. He closed his eyes shut and could just about read them verbatim from his memory. He reopened his eyes after refreshing himself on the information. “Yeah, some disappearances, all the vics disappear for three to four days and when they show back up they’re all vegetables. Most can’t even sit without some sort of help, let alone speak or function in any normal capacity.”

 

            “Well, what would do that?” Dean perked at the sound of a new case. He was dying for a distraction of some sort or another. Anything but the damn apocalypse.

            “Wish I could tell ya. It’s obviously something ancient, some type of monster that feeds off life or energy of some sort, but I don’t have any specifics. I’m plannin’ on doin’ som’more research. Maybe I can figure out some of the details.”

            “We should go check it out regardless, figure it out as we go.” Dean was itching to get out the house. Castiel glared his, as Dean called it, his _dammit-Dean_ look.

            “Dean, some additional information on the creature would be preferable.”

 

            “You know what would also be preferable? Some pie a la mode.” Dean smirked as he raised his eyebrows. Castiel’s eyes narrowed more and Dean backtracked a little. “What? So we don’t have every single detail about the monster, even when we think we DO we DON’T. Besides, it’s like what a 25 hour drive? Give or take. That’s plenty of time to firm things up a bit.”

 

Castiel still looked at Dean disapprovingly, however, he was no longer glaring. “Cas, what do you want us to do? Wait until we _think_  we know all there is to know about the damn thing, only to let more people get taken? Then we show up late, and find out we don’t know half of what we thought?” Cas waited a moment and while he knew he’d never win the argument, he’d give one last opposition.

 

            “Half of the information is better than none, Dean.” Dean avoided Cas’ gaze now. Cas’ words were filled with more emotion than he intended, but he was pleased with the results.

 

            “I promise we won’t go in guns blazin’ okay? We’ll drive there and figure out as much as we can, but when we get there we’ll lay low and observe ‘til we got ‘all’ there is to know. Happy?” Dean tilted his head as Castiel deadpanned,

 

            “No.” The slight smirk of Cas’ upturned corners of his mouth sent shivers down Dean’s spine. Dean couldn’t remember when Cas had acquired such a sardonic sense of humor; the retort, _We’ll aren’t we sassy today,_ was said through Dean’s smirk and the arch of his right eyebrow. Castiel blinked once in response, _Indeed._ Dean could hear the word in his head and the thought crossed his mind, that maybe Cas had put it in there. Dean’s eyes widened as he thought if Castiel really could read his thoughts. _Damn._ Castiel read the bemused expression on Dean’s face and shook his head slightly, which only encouraged Dean’s suspicions of mind reading.

 

            The two ended up laughing, Dean with his hearty laughed he saved for only hilariously funny situations and Cas with his wide smile and large exhale through his nose. Sam smiled as he stared at his brother; he was happy to see Dean happy for once. It had been a while since Dean had been truly happy, let alone doubled over in laughter from a silent conversation. Sam suppressed a chuckle as he mentioned about grabbing the gear and Bobby agreeing to helping with the supplies. Castiel and Dean found themselves alone in the room, pleasant smiles plastered on their faces.

 

            “You gonna come with us, Cas?”

 

            “I would love nothing more, however…”

 

            “You got angel stuff. I gotcha.” Dean failed at hiding his disappointment.

 

            “I have created a lot of turmoil by claiming you. I will not even come close to cleaning it up, however, it I avoid it, it will only worsen.” Castiel truly was reluctant to leave Dean. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with Michael.

 

            “Well, if you need some muscle, just call.” Dean smiled as Cas stared at him, perplexed yet entertained.

 

            “I’ll be sure to do that. And you call me if you run into any problems.”

 

            “I don’t wanna bother you if you’ve got…"

 

            “Dean.”

 

            “Yea, Cas.”

 

            “Just, do not do anything stupid.” Dean laughed again as he slugged Cas in the shoulder.

 

            “Hey, no promises!”


	4. Chapter 4

The tires crunched the gravel as Dean pulled out of Bobby’s place. He turned on the stereo but had the music on low, a sort of background music as he let his thoughts wander. Being in a particularly great mood, Sam tapped his fingers on his knee to the beat of the song. The music while quiet, swallowed the space in the car and Dean could feel the music vibrate in his chest. He had to focus on keeping his eyes open and on the road as all he wished to do was be engulfed by the rhythm and his thoughts. The lyrics seemed to leap from his lips as he absentmindedly followed the road.

           

            Sam let his head rest on the window, the cold glass fogging up as he exhaled warm breaths. He smiled to himself as they continued down the road, happy for things to be back to normal if only for a little bit. The song ended and new notes began to fill the Impala, and Sam turned to face Dean.

           

            “Dean,” Dean glanced over. “Never mind.” Sam backtracked as he decided he didn’t want to risk ruining the moment. Too bad Dean was already intrigued.

            “What is it, Sammy?” Sam struggled to contain himself. He really didn’t need all that much encouragement to voice his original thought, but he decided it be best for another time.

            “Nothin’. Really.” _Nothing that couldn’t wait ‘til later._ Sam thought to himself. Dean was a persistent bastard however, and continued to push.

            “C’mon Sammy, just tell me.” Sam sighed and decided to acquiesce. He wouldn’t go into the details of what he was planning to say. _I’ll wait for later to go “big picture”._

            “I was just gonna say that you seem happy. It’s a nice change of pace.” Dean seemed surprised by the statement but couldn’t help but agree. He was happy. He’d gotten used to the feeling of warmth in his chest and the pang of pain in his cheeks from smiling. The thought erupted a deep laughter from his chest. Sam looked confused but smiled along. “What?”

            “The apocalypse is quickly approaching, and this is the happiest I’ve been in…well in a long time.” Dean smiled, thumbs beating the steering wheel. Two or three more songs passed when Sam pulled a book out and began to start his research. Dean was left alone to his thoughts again as he pleasantly replayed old memories and conversations. Every once in a while Sam would pull him out of his reverie to voice his hypotheses on the monsters, or read some of the lore text aloud to get a better understanding. Dean would listen contently, add his two cents, then return to  the scrapbook he was flipping through in his mind.

 

            Dean pulled into what looked to be a deserted parking lot of a no-tell motel. Sam looked up and cracked his neck, it having been bent trying to decipher riddles of lore while on the phone with Bobby. Dean rolled his shoulders as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. Sam hopped out of the car and jogged to the front office to get a room. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, happy to not have to leave the warmth of the car and face to chilled autumn air. He smiled wide his eyes still closed. Keeping his head against the headrest, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes.

           

            “Hello, Dean.” Cas was sitting in the passenger seat, his hair a little messier than usual, and dark circles trimmed his eyes.

            “Hey, Cas. You okay?”  Cas sighed heavily and replied,

            “Yes. I have been conversing with some of my brothers and sisters. They are not pleased.”

            “They givin’ you trouble Cas?” Dean sat up straighter, muscles tensed.

            “Of course they are Dean. I expected it. It is not something you should concern yourself with.”

            “Cas…”

            “Dean. Please, let me handle something on my own for once.” Dean laughed at that and closed his eyes again. Cas shifted in his seat as he felt the nagging feeling of one of his sisters’ calls. He groaned aloud. “Dean…”

            “You gotta go?” Cas huffed an affirmation. “Okay, give ‘em hell for me.” Cas nodded but remained in his seat. He let his head fall against the seat.

            “I do not want to go.”

            “So don’t.”

            “But I have to…”

            “So go.” Castiel glared at Dean, who was wearing a stupid grin on his face.

            “You are not helping Dean.” Dean snorted a laugh. “You are not funny either.

            “Oh c’mon, I’m hilarious!”

            “Goodbye Dean.” In that instant Cas was gone, and Dean was thankful Cas didn’t give him a chance to reply. A knock on the glass window startled Dean; he turned to see his brother jingling the keys for the room. Dean reluctantly got out of the car and grabbed their duffle bags from the back seat. They climbed up the ancient stairs and made their way to their room. Dean dropped the bags to the floor, shivered, and made his way to the bathroom.

            “I’m takin’ a shower.” Sam nodded as he turned to the thermostat on the wall. He cranked the dial up only to realize it wasn’t even connected to the wall; the dial was literally hanging by a thumbtack. Sam swore under his breath as he recounted the numerous times this had happened before. He searched through his duffel bag and pulled out a flannel shirt. He shrugged off two of his layers and threw the shirt on. He winced from the chilled fabric but clung on to the thought that he’d be warmer soon enough. He pulled the two layers he had shed back on and sat at the table near the window. He flipped the book back open to where he had left off and picked up mid sentence.

 

            It wasn’t long until Dean emerged from the steamy bathroom already dressed. He used his shoulder to rub away the water droplets that ran down his neck. He marched to the duffel bag and grabbed a sweatshirt to throw on. He immediately crawled into bed and pulled the scratchy sheets over himself. He pulled the blankets tight around his body leaving only his face visible. Sam looked up and failed to suppress a chuckle.

            “What?” Dean spat irritated, now rethinking the shower. _Yea, it was nice and hot in there but now I’m shivering because I’m wet. Dumbass._

“You look like a caterpillar.”

            “It’s fucking cold.”

            “Doesn’t make you look any less like a caterpillar.” Dean grumbled and rolled over.

            “Go to bed, you can read that thing in the morning.”

            “I’m not tired.”

            “What is it with you an not sleeping? GO TO BED.”

            “YOU go to bed.”

            “I’M IN BED.” Dean shouted. He grunted again as he rolled back over. “Goddammit Sam.” Sam laughed, ignoring him. “You are so lucky I’m too damn cold right now to kick your ass.”

            “Oooh I’m so scared of Mr. 5’11.”

            “WHAT was that?”

            “Nothin’. I was just commenting on how short, I mean how tall you are.” Dean’s eyes narrowed.

            “One, I’m NOT 5’11 and two excuse me for not being the height of the Chrysler building!” Dean cursed himself internally as soon as the words left his mouth. Sam’s eyes lit up and a devilish smirk crossed his face. “Shut it.” Sam raised his hands up in surrender and closed the book. He continued to smile as he putted around. His smirk turned to a toothy grin and a hearty chuckle. Dean rolled his eyes and turned off the side lamp, leaving Sam to stumble around in the dark.

            “Jerk.”

            “Bitch.”

*          *          *

Castiel slumped on a park bench in the middle of a suburban city he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of.   He was exhausted. The past three days he hadn’t seen Dean and he felt guilty because Dean had called out to him more than once. They weren’t even calls really, just moments when Dean’s thoughts lingered on Cas for a considerable amount of time. Cas had grown accustomed to answering said “calls” but it was all he could do now to sit on a park bench. The green paint of the wood was chipping and the bolts holding the thing together were orange and rusted. Castiel reached out and stroked the rough edge of the wood, still damp from the night’s rain. He had checked in on Dean mentally a few times. The hunt was going better than expected and they were planning on taking the thing down tomorrow, the last Cas had checked. It seemed it was a hybrid of two other hybrids so its power and danger had yet to be determined. Sam concluded that it was just a hybrid of four different pagan gods, but which pagan gods they couldn’t be sure.  Sam and Dean were confident, however, that the monster could be slain with a rib, of one of its victims, soaked in the blood of an immortal. Dean promised he’d keep Cas updated but Castiel knew how that went. Normally Cas would check in on Dean on his own, but he had been too busy to get a chance.

 

            Castiel had spent the past three days in heaven running from place to place attempting to find Zachariah or Michael. It seemed that every single person he bumped into was concerned for Castiel, stating how furious Michael must be and that Castiel should avoid him at all costs. However, Castiel had spent close to 78 hours in search of him and couldn’t find him anywhere. If Michael was after Castiel, he was doing a piss poor job at it.

 

            Castiel had been hoping to be the one to break the news to Michael and do as much damage control as possible. Too bad it seemed that everyone had heard about Castiel’s possession of Dean and Heaven was in chaos as a result. For once Castiel felt that the angels were being overly dramatic just for the sake of doing so. Half of his brothers and sisters were cursing Castiel, calling him a supporter of Lucifer while the other half were praising him for standing up to Michael. Either way people seemed to think Castiel’s actions only ensured the defeat of Heaven.

 

            Maybe he had been spending too much time with Dean, but Cas couldn’t figure out what was the big deal? Dean was not the only vessel Michael could take. Lucifer wasn’t exactly wearing his preferred suit but seemed to doing just as much damage.  Castiel was glad that he had taken a break because if he met Michael now, he would be less apologetic and more irate.

            He felt a sudden pang in his chest and he lurched forward, feeling the urge to vomit. His chest burned violently and his fingers clutched his tie. The bile in his throat disappeared, as did the pain. The feeling subsided slightly as he slowly straightened himself. Happy memories clouded his thoughts and he felt in a dream like state. He saw Mary and her golden blonde hair bounce as she danced through the kitchen, he heard Sam’s giggle erupt from a toddler, then saw the fireworks light up the sky and the baby’s giggle turned deeper as Sam was now a teenager. Castiel saw the inside of a dirty motel room and heard his own voice come from the phone that was held to his ear. _“It isn’t funny Dean. The voice says I’m almost out of minutes.”_ The scene changed and Castiel’s face paled. He saw himself sitting on a red velvet sofa as he heard Dean’s chuckle. “ _I shouldn’t be here. This is a den on iniquity.”_ Suddenly they were in the Impala and Castiel could see himself stuffing cheeseburgers down his throat, mumbling with a full mouth, “ _These make me….very happy.”_

            More and more memories flooded through Castiel’s mind, he watched passively and becoming more and more intoxicated with the reverie. He took a sudden intake of breath when a particular memory surfaced. He could feel the heat of the engine. The crisp cool air chilled his lungs with every inhale. The slowly setting sun seemed to burn his eyes from the sheer beauty of it; he couldn’t look away.

           

            The memory stopped, interrupted before it was able to finish. It was then that Castiel froze. His heart stopped and air refused to reach his lungs.  No was the only word escaped his lips before he evaporated.

 

He was dead.

*          *          *

 

Sam’s feet pounded the wet ground as he screamed.

“DEAN!” The words ripped through the cold air but were met with no reply. He collapsed at his brother’s fallen body and grabbed the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket. “Dean? DEAN.” Dean’s eyes were open but vacant as his lifeless body slumped in Sam’s grip. Sam’s mind couldn’t function as he tried to replay what had happened. The replay was disjointed and the film was cracked, skipping over parts as they played too fast.

            Sam stared down at his older brother and began to sob.

            “Dean. No Dean. C’mon. Let’s go. We gotta go Dean. Stop messing around we gotta go. Seriously Dean, this isn’t funny. Get up. Get up Dean. You gotta get up! We need to go home. Dean, let’s go home.” Dean’s lifeless body remained stagnant. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother and picked him up. “Really Dean? This is going to far, you’re going to make me carry you? Jerk.” Dean’s lips remained still. “You’re supposed to say ‘Bitch’. Remember? Jerk….Dean? 

 

            Sam continued to try and make his brother walk, but his feet simply dragged across the dirt. Sam collapse and his brother fell with him.  Sam sat there silently as he cried. Sam’s denial faded quickly as he looked at his big brother’s corpse sprawled on the ground. A sob broke through his chest as he convulsed from the pain of it.

            “HELP! Somebody help! CAS!” Cas appeared instantaneously, his reverie just having ended. Cas’ shook with a flood of emotions as he stared at Dean, crumpled to the ground. Cas turned to see the faint outline of crying Dean and his reaper at the edge of the field. Cas apperate with an outstretched to grab him but was too late as the two disappeared into the fog. He stared at the empty air his hand was grasping at.

            “Cas, you gotta bring him back! YOU GOTTA BRING HIM BACK!” Sam sobbed oblivious to the reaper’s abduction of Dean. Cas reappeared next to Sam and placed his two fingers to Dean’s temple. He felt the energy surge through him into Dean but Dean’s eyes remained open and vacant. Cas tried a second, then a third time before he quit. Cas was struggling to think clearly as his wings felt as if they were being burned. Sam looked up to see the tears streaming down Cas’ face.

            “Dean’s gone.”

 

*          *          *

 

Castiel stormed through Heaven; his brothers and sisters throwing themselves to get out of his way. Something about Castiel was broken, unhinged. His eyes were wild and furious but seemed to ooze sorrow. Castiel swept every inch of Heaven until he found whom he was looking for.

            “Zachariah!” Zachariah, surprised to see Castiel, tried to dissipate only to be thrown against the opposite wall with a flick of Castiel’s wrist. “Where is he?” Castiel’s voice dripped with venom and Zachariah turned away from the force of it.

            “Castiel, I swear I don’t know what you’re…” Castiel rolled his eyes and looked in disbelief at the incompetency he was forced to deal with.

            “Zachariah, if you really choose to be this unhelpful I’ll just kill you now. So, either you tell me or we can stop wasting my time and just get this over with.” Zachariah was paralyzed against the wall, only able to move is head. He struggled to move the rest of his body but failed. Zachariah took in a shaky breath; he hadn’t exactly been expecting his younger sibling to harbor so much power.

            “Castiel, he’s dead. That’s all I know, honest!” Zachariah bit his lip and Castiel chuckled, sending shivers up Zachariah’s spine.

            “That is _truly_ all you know?”

            “Michael and I had nothing to do with his death. _Nothing._ ” A smirk played at Zachariah’s lips and that’s when Castiel realized what had happened. “You told me specifically to not invade the thoughts, dreams, or presence of Dean Winchester. We followed your orders, Castiel.”

            “You had nothingto do with his death.” Castiel repeated it solemnly, anger rising. “Dean was no longer under Michael’s protection.” 

            “He was no longer Michael’s responsibility. I believe he was under the protection of another owner.”  Castiel felt the wound in his chest rip back open. _He was my responsibility._

            “The fault lies not with you.” The words shamed him as the emotions of all consuming rage and guilt fought within Castiel. “You had nothing to do with his death because you sit and let it happen. You did not instigate it but watched passively. You are an angel of the Lord. Your job is to help and protect good.”

            “We are warriors of God. You should know. Ha! My how the mighty have fallen.”

            “Why do you make me repeat myself? If you do not tell me where Dean is, I will make good on my promise.” Castiel said it dryly, not really caring either way. Castiel was scared at the fact that he hoped Zachariah wouldn’t tell him, just so he’d have a reason to repave the way to hell. 

            “Well, much to my dismay, he is residing in Heaven. But where in Heaven I haven’t bothered to find out.”  Castiel sighed, somewhat disappointed. He slipped his hand into Zachariah’s coat pocket and pulled out the angelic blade. Zachariah’s eyes widened.

            “I will be taking this. Oh, do not give me that look. You are lucky I am not skinning you alive with it.” Castiel suddenly disappeared and Zachariah crumpled to the floor. He held his head in his hands as he began to breathe again. What was left of his grace burned as he sat on the marble floor. He allowed himself a moment to feel guilt, regret. The moment passed and he rose to his feet. He had things to do, apocalypses to start. Michael still needed a vessel and Adam still needed some encouragement to accept the title. So with that Zachariah straightened himself, and went after the replacement Winchester.

 

*          *          *

 

Castiel arrived at the front desk of Heaven and was met with the same reaction he had been receiving all day, flight. The room that was once holding close to two dozen angels was now inhabiting two, one of which was Castiel.

            Castiel approached the angel that stood before him. Her outstretched hand motioned for him to stop; Castiel allowed her this.

            “What do you want Castiel?” Her voice was strong yet Castiel could tell how nervous she was by the way her left hand continued to twitch toward her left side. Castiel deducted that her left side concealed her blade.

            “You will not need the blade, sister. I merely wish to see Dean. He is hidden from me. I have been searching all day but I cannot seem to find him. Where is his heaven?”

            “Castiel, you can’t see Dean in Heaven….” Castiel interrupted her.

            “I do not care about the rules. He is mine. Dean Winchester is mine. It is about all anyone has been talking about yet you refuse to acknowledge it. Take me to his Heaven.”

            “Castiel, I understand but…”

            “NOW.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Castiel. She bit her lip in anger but then composed herself.

            “Fine. Follow me.” She muttered the words, her voice cold and distant. Castiel followed her through the channels. Suddenly, Castiel felt his feet crunch over gravel and a familiar scene unfolded before him. The Impala was parked on the side of a road over looking a small cliff. The green grass was damp, and orange embers of leaves fluttered to the ground. The familiar tune of one of Dean’s favorites wafted through the air, the sound intermingling with the smell of French fries and cheeseburgers. The sun was setting and the horizon showed a watercolor painting of yellows, blues, and purples with explosions of red and pink in all the right places. Everything was as it should be. Except it was missing the major characters of the scene.

            Castiel whipped around accusingly and glared at the angel.

            “Dean isn’t here. You said he would be here.”

            “No, Castiel I didn’t say that. Maybe if you would have let me speak, you would have figured that out.”

            “I apologize. Now, would you please continue? Why isn’t Dean here? This is his Heaven is it not?”

            “Yes, this is Dean’s heaven. However, he was displeased his brother couldn’t be here. He made quite a fuss, saying being dead was one thing but having a Heaven without his brother was unbearable.”

            “He said this?”

            “Would you like me to use direct quotes Castiel?”

            “The attitude is unnecessary but yes.” She huffed, still irritated with both Castiel and the former inhabitant of this little niche in Heaven.

            “He said, and I quote, ‘This isn’t my Heaven! My Heaven isn’t about the view or the scene or the music or any of that shit. It’s about the memory and who I shared it with! If this is what Heaven’s all about then I don’t want it. You guys can take it and shove it!’ Pleased, Castiel? You must be so proud.”

            “He said that, exactly, word for word?”

            “YES, Castiel. Word for word. Would you like me to repeat it?”

            “That won’t be necessary,” she rolled her eyes as Castiel continued, “but where is Dean now, if not here.”

            “We offered to make him a new Heaven but when we told him no other soul could reside with him, well, he became difficult.”

            “Where is he? I am becoming tired of asking.”

            “It was decided among a committee that his soul was too restless for Heaven, but having that his soul was too righteous for Hell, a third option was presented.”

            “That being?” Castiel prayed the word Purgatory wouldn’t be uttered.

            “His soul has been reincarnated.” Castiel had mentally been preparing for his trip to Purgatory so her response caught him off guard.

            “Reincar- you reincarnated him? Since when has that been an option, sister? And why did no one think to call me about this decision?”

            “Sorry, Castiel. But with you defying Michael, and deviating from the Plan, you aren’t exactly popular at the moment. I’d be lying if I said that your exclusion was wholly an accident.”

            “Where is he?”

            “Really, Castiel? I believe we went over this. His soul has been reincarnated.”

            “BUT WHERE? Who is he now?”

            “I’m not at will to say, but…” she paused, weighing her options if it was better to feel the wrath of the council or of Castiel; she decided the former seemed less omniscient, “…Meredith Wood, a woman who up until twenty five minutes ago was infertile, has just become pregnant. Now, I’ve been instructed not to tell you, so you did not here this from me. Also, while Dean is your property, tread softly Castiel. You’ve broken a lot of rules recently, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they retaliated on _Dean’s_ soul if you stepped out of line again. I highly suggest you fix the Apocalypse dilemma first, then check on the Winchester. Just a suggestion. Like I said they’ll just as quick snuff out Dean’s soul, if…”

            “I understand. Thank you.” His sister gave a quick nod and disappeared. Castiel was now standing alone. The whole scene felt wrongHe stumbled his way to the Impala and sat on the hood. The heat radiated through his coat just like it had a few weeks prior. The paper bag sat beside him and all he could think about was how Dean had surveyed the burgers and given him the one with more cheese. Castiel felt tears well in his eyes because that was just the way it was with Dean. Castiel was eons old and had never met a soul as giving and loving as Dean. Dean sacrificed everything for the greater good, for others, and Cas had never thought that anyone could be that _good_ but God himself.

            Castiel hummed to tune of Ramble On, and soon found that the floodgates had opened. He laid his head against the windshield and cried. He cried for himself, he cried for Dean, he cried for _them._ He would never hear his laugh again. He would never see that five-year-old grin again. Dean would never made crude jokes at Cas’ expense any more. Dean would never have silent conversations with Cas any more. They would never sit in silence, blissfully conversing without a word ever spoken. Now silence would just be unbearable.  The Silence. It would be so quiet now. How quiet the world would be without Dean. He would never make his snarky comments, no more innuendos, no more cursing. Just silence. 

            Cas could just picture Dean’s face, slowly fading away into the fog. Dean’s emerald eyes bore in to Cas’, and even now that they were just a mirage Cas couldn’t look away. Cas outstretched his hand to stop him but with one touch he vanished.  Those emerald eyes. What about those emerald green eyes and those freckles? Would Dean be reincarnated with them? Will Dean still have his bowlegged walk? Dean wouldn’t be Dean without them. _But Dean_ won’t _be Dean._

 

            Cas actually had to get up and lie down on the cool grass. Castiel calmed down for a moment until he thought about all the things he and Dean never got the chance to do. Castiel couldn’t stop himself from throwing himself over the edge. He almost didn’t want to. The things that Cas would miss didn’t even come close to the unwritten list of future things they had planned. All things Dean had wanted to teach him! How many different movies had Dean listed that Cas just _had_ to see? Dean told him about so many places spread across America, all little memories from his past. He’d promised Cas he’d show him sometime. And the pie! How could Cas forget the pie? Cas had _promised_ Dean _,_ he would try it. He never did. And Christmas. Christmas was so different in Heaven. Cas wanted a Christmas with Dean, a Christmas with a pine tree and the lights and the glass orbs they hung on it. And he wanted to hang socks on a fireplace and buy those pinecones that smelled like cinnamon. He wanted to find a present for Dean and hide it beneath the tree. He wanted to watch Dean’s face as he unwrapped it. He wanted so much. He wanted Dean. He wanted a future with Dean.

 

Castiel pulled himself up from the ground and the night air began to cool. How long had he spent mourning in Dean’s Heaven? His perception of time was nonexistent at the moment but he knew it had been awhile. He couldn’t waste any more time, he knew what he was going to do now. He knew it all along yet somehow the idea only just occurred him.

 

Castiel rubbed his hand along the warm hood of the Impala and said goodbye to Dean’s Heaven. He vowed to never return, but in the years the come, it would be a haven he would frequent.


	5. Chapter 5

Same Year (2009)

Jack Trent grabbed his chest as he stared into his love’s eyes.

            “Meredith, are you sure? I mean are you absolutely positive.” Meredith Wood smiled wide as she nodded, her brunette hair draping her delicate shoulders.

            “I’m positive. I didn’t tell you before because I thought it was a fluke. I took like four drugstore tests before I finally went to the doctor. I should have told you but I didn’t want to make you excited for nothing.” She looked down at her stomach and rubbed it tenderly.

            “We’re gonna have a baby. Meredith, we’re gonna have a baby!” Jack grabbed Meredith and twirled her around. They had given up the dream of children for a long time after learning Meredith was infertile. They had talked about adoption but were waitlisted for an estimated two years. This baby was a miracle and they couldn’t have been happier.

            Jack couldn’t believe the way his life had seemed to turn around after that. Jack had been unemployed for close to seven months. Jack was a history teacher, a great one, but due to budget cuts he was let go. It seemed it didn’t matter what school district he went to, no one was hiring. However, a day after finding out Meredith was pregnant, Jack bumped into a board member of the local university. Jack thought nothing of the encounter until a week later when they offered him a position as a professor. With his new position, he got insurance for himself and his family, meaning that actually having a baby wouldn’t cost them a dime.

            If that wasn’t enough, six months into the pregnancy Meredith received a letter from an attorney saying she had inherited a house. Meredith couldn’t directly remember the woman, who had left the house in her name. Being a nurse, Meredith came to the conclusion that it must have been a patient she made a lasting impression on. When they drove out to see the house, Meredith broke into tears. The house was gorgeous and more than anything she could have ever asked for. It was a large two-story country style house with a good two acres of land. It was farther off in the country than either of the couple was used to, but the baby seemed to kick excitedly as they walked around. Meredith thanked God for giving her such a wonderful start to her pregnancy; she didn’t expect anyone to be listening however.

The last months of Meredith’s pregnancy ensued perfectly. Their miracle baby was born on a beautiful day in August and they named him Logan. Logan squirmed and wiggled in his mother’s arms, his gaze never leaving the seemingly empty corner of the hospital room. After a couple days, they brought Baby Logan home and showed him his bright yellow and green nursery. Meredith held Logan on her hip as they shifted through all the gifts from the baby shower. Jack folded all the new clothes and placed them in the drawers. He placed the toys in the whicker toy chest as Meredith placed the now sleeping baby in the crib. She squatted down next to her husband and helped sort through the gifts until she stumbled upon a gift bag she hadn’t remembered opening. She took apart the tissue paper and saw a single blanket folded inside. She pulled out the quilt to see it was faded blue and green quilt. It seemed bigger than a crib sized quilt, more of an adult sized blanket. Meredith looked quizzically at the patchwork and the intricate stitching.

“What’s that Mer?” Jack whispered as he turned his attention away from the stuffed animals he was organizing.

“It’s a quilt, but I don’t remember opening it at the shower. I don’t think I did.”

“It must have gotten hidden in the coat closet. Who’s it from? Is there a tag or something?”

“No, there isn’t a tag or anything. I feel guilty, not only did I not open it in front of whoever gave this to us, but I can’t even send them a thank you.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. What can we do? Give it here.” Jack took the blanket and folded it in half then place it in the white crib. The blanket was still too large for the space so the excess fabric seemed to climb the crib walls. Logan stirred a bit then cooed in his sleep. As the weeks went on the Trent’s couldn’t believe how pleasant Logan was a baby; they received quadruple the amount of sleep other parents of newborns as the Trent’s were rarely awoken to the cries of the infant. As much as they liked to believe, Logan was not the perfect infant as they thought him to be; the Trent’s were simply unaware of the third parent raising Baby Logan.

 

Castiel had been keeping a distance, watching from afar. It’s what he intended at least. (Castiel didn’t count the miniscule miracles as interacting with the family.) Nine months of observing from Heaven’s clouds kind of tired the idea of a lifetime of concealed existence. Castiel appeared in the hospital room but remained invisible; he swore that would be the last time he would directly interfere. However, Cas was elated to know Dean’s soul recognized his presence and that interaction became somewhat of a drug for Castiel. Once home, Baby Logan slept in his parent’s room for the first week or so.

 

But once Logan’s crib was placed permanently in the nursery, Logan didn’t sleep so soundly. Castiel tried wholeheartedly for 35 minutes to just watch and not directly interfere, but with each hiccup cry that came from Logan’s lips Castiel’s willpower weakened. Castiel appeared in the room and walked up towards the crib. He placed his hands on the rails and just stared at the infant. Castiel gazed into the emerald green eyes and relief swept over him. _So, eyes truly are the windows to the soul._ Cas was ecstatic that he could look at Logan and still see Dean. 

 

Castiel reached into the crib and picked up the fidgeting baby and held him in his arms. It took Cas a moment to find comfortable position but Logan soon rested into the crook of his elbow. Logan quieted and stared up at Cas, an obvious flicker or recognition lit up the emerald irises. Cas smiled down at Baby Logan and hummed quietly. Once Baby Logan would fall back asleep, Cas still would have trouble leaving. He would hold the sleeping child until the horizon had the beginning of yellow hue. Cas would place a kiss on Logan’s cheek and set the child back in the crib. This night repeated itself for the next couple years.

 

4 Years Later (2014)

“Mama!” Logan giggled as the four year old held up his finger painting. Meredith turned and smiled.

            “OH WOW. Logan this is beautiful! When did you become such an artist?” Logan giggled again as he watched his mother hang the picture on the fridge.

            “You like it?” He blushed as his little hands grabbed the edge of his shirt out of excitement.

            “Do I like it? No, I LOVE it!” Meredith beamed as she placed the blue magnets on the four corners of the painting. Logan skipped to stand next to his mother as he pointed at the picture.

            “That’s you, and that’s daddy, and that’s me!”

            “Wow Logan! You portrayed us perfectly. This is really good!” Meredith examined her own brunette hair and her husband’s short black mop. Her eyes moved to the emerald eyes of her son and his sprinkling of cinnamon across his cheeks. “You even got your freckles!”

            “Mmmmph.” Logan rocked back and forth on his heels.

            “You know how you got those freckles?” Logan nodded triumphantly. Meredith seemed surprised. “How?”

            “They’re angel kisses!” Meredith smiled wide as her son produced the answer she was about to give.

            “And who told you that?” Logan beamed with pride as he continued,

            “The man in the suit.” Meredith smirked, thinking the description was that of her husband.

 

            The man in the suit appeared to Logan in his dreams, now that he didn’t need to be rocked to sleep. It was none other than Castiel, of course, checking up on his favorite soul; Castiel watched over Logan Trent day and night, making his primary purpose the guardian of Logan. Now that Logan was old enough to be able to recognize and remember Castiel, Cas tried to remain unseen. While normally he was successful in this, there were times when Castiel grew weak and needed to be with him, which lead to Cas following Logan around while invisible.

 

            Castiel followed Logan to school from kindergarten through high school. Every day from the start to the end of senior year, a slice of pie seemed to make its way into Logan’s lunch too. Castiel made sure Logan never had anyone pick on him, yet Cas had nothing to do with Logan’s determination to defend those who did have bullies. Logan’s permission slips for field trips were always signed, ready to go, even though he specifically remembered his mom leaving it on her desk. Same went for forgotten books in lockers or cars; they always seemed to be in arm’s reach when Logan needed them. Logan also never sustained any major physical injuries; Logan played sports since he could walk; yet he’d never been to the doctor’s for anything worse than the flu. Castiel kept a watchful eye over Logan.

 

While Cas had grown accustomed to following Logan around, he also gave him his space, checking in every hour or so. In Logan’s teens, it was rare that Cas hovered for hours on end, especially during the day. However once Logan made the varsity cut for baseball in high school, Cas began to spend more time in his presence. Cas made every game, every practice; never missed one. He’d cheer silently when Logan would throw a good pitch or steal a base. It took a year for Cas to understand the game, but even in the first season when he had no clue what was happening, he enjoyed it immensely. The love Logan had for the game caused Castiel to beam with joy. He was euphoric that Dean was able to enjoy this, even if he was enjoying it as Logan. Anything that made Logan happy, in turn, made Cas happy.

The many proud moments throughout the baseball seasons paled in comparison to the night of Logan’s high school graduation. As much as Dean had tried to down play it, he truly wanted to have that high school experience and that normal-taken-for-granted high school graduation. Castiel was not invisible this night. He stood in his suit and trench coat on the side aisle with the widest grin his vessel was able to contain. When Logan walked across the stage with his satin blue robe, Castiel cheered loudly, his eyes welling a little. He was glad the room was so loud so not even the people crowding him wouldn’t be able to hear his,

“I’m so proud of you Dean.” _And you would be proud of you too._

 

After high school, Logan chose his career as a firefighter. Castiel rolled his eyes in somewhat disbelief and acceptance. _Really Dean. First a hunter, now a fire fighter? I guess I should be thankful he didn’t want to join the army._   Logan began the training to get in the physical shape while taking classes to become a certified EMT. After finishing his EMT certification, he held off on becoming a firefighter for a couple years. A couple turned to five and he was 24 when he was finally an honorary fireman. Much to Cas’ delight, Logan wasn’t thrown into as much peril as he had originally thought. Logan moved up in the ranks quickly, which didn’t surprise Cas in the least. Logan’s life continued on as any normal person’s and Cas followed him through it.

 

While present a majority of the time, Cas also found himself in fantasyland. He’d catch himself daydreaming only being awoken once Logan would come back from a fire. He relived old memories with Dean, old times with Logan. Cas longed for the time when he’d hold _Dean_ in his arms again. Throughout the past few decades Cas had thought of Logan, less as Dean, but more as his and Dean’s child. Cas was widowed parent raising Logan, but as Logan grew older he resembled Dean more and more. Logan had transformed, in Castiel’s mind, from his child to his almost-Dean.

Castiel daydreamed that this was his Dean in some alternate universe. He dreamt he and Dean could lead normal lives, settle down and forget all about the supernatural. With Logan, the dream was reality. Cas would sleep next to Logan, sit with him at breakfast, follow him every once in a blue moon to a fire scene. The make-believe game Cas was playing was just to keep him sane. What Cas really pined for was his days with Dean, the real Dean who knew and remembered Cas. Because while Logan and Dean shared the same soul, only one of them was truly Dean, to Cas anyway. 

 Cas waiting for the day he could be reunited with his other half, the one that remembered him, loved him and knew him. That was a favorite of Cas’ daydreams, the day he’d see Dean again. Dean would be _Dean._ Logan and Dean’s physical attributes were pretty close but every different curve and line seemed to scream out at Cas, making it hard for him to ignore. As much as Cas loved the dark brunette hair of Logan, and the olive skin tone, and the deep but smooth voice, Cas longed to see Dean’s sandy hair and hear his gruff voice. Cas would be able to hold _Dean_ and talk to _Dean._ Cas couldn’t wait to see him again. Would Dean remember Logan? It didn’t matter. Cas would tell Dean all about him. 

 

Cas was in another of his dreams when Logan flopped down on the cot of the living quarters. Logan had a huge smile plastered on his face and Cas smiled in response.

“I just met the most amazing girl in the world!” Logan looked over at his roommate Tyler who shook his head and laughed.

“You say that _every_ time you meet a girl willing to bang you.”

“Oh fuck you! I’m seriously this time.” Cas’ feathers ruffled involuntarily. He scoffed at his own reaction. _Logan has had other girlfriend’s. It’s fine. Normal. You should be concerned if he_ wasn’t _dating people._ But the nagging thought that Logan was now 30 didn’t help matters.

“Oh really. What makes her so different?” As much as Cas was trying to diffuse the alarm rising in his chest, he couldn’t help but be impatient at Logan’s lag of a response. Logan sat up and cracked his neck, (a habit Cas couldn’t believe had been imbedded in Dean’s soul).

“Her name’s Teresa. She works at Mercy. She’s resident. Doctor.”

“I know what a resident is dumbass.”

“Just checking. Anyway, we brought a couple of the burn victims in and I don’t know. We started talking. She has these eyes man. And her laugh.”

“Dude, I’ve never heard you talk like this ever.”

“I know. I should have warned yea about the chick flick moment that’s happening now, god knows I hate ‘em. But yeah we’re going out tomorrow night.”

 

Things seemed to spiral out of control for Cas from this point on. Teresa and Logan fell in love, and fast. Teresa was the second half of Logan, and it drove Cas insane. As much as Cas knew, Dean wasn’t the one dating Teresa; he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Cas understood his emotions were unjustified but he felt them all the same. Castiel stooped into a depression. He followed Logan around, however he wasn’t sure if it was to protect him or torture himself. Cas would see Logan’s happiness and be happy for him, be happy that he was happy. But then his own heart would long for the days that he made Dean happy. The days that Dean’s emerald eyes lit up because of something Cas had said, those were the days that Cas wanted back.

 

Three years into their relationship, Logan popped the question. It was beautifully romantic and completely corny. Red roses galore and two thinned stemmed champagne glasses waited the couple after a moonlit dinner. Cas decided to leave after he purposefully, but unconsciously, had Logan drop the ring on the ground twice. He assumed she said yes based upon the rattle of giggles that chased him away. The years went by slow. Some days were harder than others and Castiel found himself walking among the humans in his vessel more often. Some days Cas seriously thought about retreating back to Heaven and fulfill out some duties prescribed to him, but even with the sadness he felt, he could never leave Logan, never leave Dean. With that being decided he forced himself to buck up and be happy for Logan. If he ever had any doubt he’d simply run his finger over the emerald marble he found so long ago.

 

The first couple years of marriage were tiresome for Cas. He stuck around, checking in every once in awhile but he found adult Logan painful to be around. Adult Logan was too close to being Dean, yet too different. Cas would get glimpses of Dean in little things Logan would do. Logan found ease with cars and had a fondness for the phrase ‘Son of a bitch’. Logan would kick loose pebbles or rocks on the ground whenever he felt uncomfortable, a habit, Cas had always noticed, was attributed to Dean. Other things reminded Cas of Dean too: the way Logan would run his fingers through his hair or the sly smile he’d get when he’d make a joke at a friend’s expense. The core qualities Dean had were infused in Logan as well; Logan was fiercely loyal, strong willed, protective, and loving. It seemed the only personality trait Logan was missing was self-loathing; and Cas was oh-so grateful that Dean could finally see himself the way Cas saw him.

 

The minor differences were miniscule. Castiel a majority of the time couldn’t even place what was off. Castiel struggled being around Logan because of his trouble with distinguishing the differences between Logan and Dean. Cas had grown to know and understand Logan just as well as he had Dean, and at times he pretended they were one in the same. It was only when mannerisms of Dean were present in Logan that Cas’ fantasy would shatter. Castiel became increasingly lonely around Logan and things only seemed to get worse when he saw Logan’s demeanor around Teresa.

 

Cas recognized Dean’s hearty laughter erupt from Logan when listening to Teresa. The way Logan would stare at Teresa reminded Cas of times when he and Dean wouldn’t talk but just look at one another and share a million words. Logan and Teresa’s first couple years as newlyweds resulted in Castiel clinging on to the green marble more often.

 

The first couple years went by however and not long after the Logan Trent family was a family of five, Logan, Teresa, their two kids, Lucy and Mitchell, and their Australian shepherd with the two different colored eyes, Axel. Castiel found himself hanging around more, watching over the kids. And did he love those kids. Castiel paid them just as much attention as he had Logan. He followed them and their mother and kept a watchful eye on them when she became distracted. Little Lucy was jubilant, giggling nonstop just for the sake of being happy, and she clung on to every word her older brother said. If Castiel hadn’t known better, he could have swore that Dean had reincarnated into Mitchell, and Sam into Lucy. Mitchell was a rough-and-tumble little kid and always watched out for Lucy. Similar to Dean and Logan, Mitchell at the young age of four loved adventures; he’d wander off from the playground to go on hikes on forgotten trails, Lucy, and secretly Cas, always in toe. Castiel grew out of his depression when he was around Lucy and Michael. They reminded him so much of Sam and Dean he would just let them wander off from their mother to go on fantasy adventures through the woods. Of course, they were never in any actual danger since Cas was around, but Teresa wasn’t aware of the guardian protecting them so nearly every adventure was paired with an anxiety attack and a stern lecture.

 

Cas had become an unknown member of the family again. He’d hang around on movie night, sooth away nightmares; make sure there was always enough chocolate for two hot cocoas on cold days, Cas even caused a snow day or two. These years passed much faster for Cas and it didn’t really strike him that four years had passed until Mitchell’s eighth birthday. Castiel marveled at how fast it all went. Castiel had gotten swept up in the happiness of the kids however and hadn’t noticed the storm silently brooding between Teresa and Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter ended a little abruptly! I was planning on cutting it earlier but got carried away...and I don't have enough of the next several scenes to add to it, and those scenes ESPECIALLY cannot be divided. So lo siento! I'm planning on working on this this week and next and hopefully uploading more sometime mid-next week! Thank you guys so much for reading; it seriously means a lot to me! 
> 
> ~xoxoSasha


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG CHRISTMAS IN APRIL yeah sorry i should have planned this better but i didnt so yeah. lo siento and i hope you enjoy!

That Christmas was _the_ Christmas for Cas. Castiel hadn’t spent a Christmas with Logan and he had made a commitment not too. He always wanted a Christmas with Dean, and to try to create that with Logan seemed just like a painful ordeal. Even with the kids, Cas still wasn’t up for forcing all his emotions to surface. (Cas was quite content pretending he didn’t miss Dean, that Logan and his family made up for the crippling grief that diseased Castiel.) Cas hung around here and there and he found himself slipping into his old funk of wishing for the days of Dean and Sam.

 

Castiel planned to spend Christmas where he always did, with Sam and Bobby, now 61 and 94 respectively. Castiel always spent the holidays with them, visiting with Sam and his wife Amelia. Sam had three kids, now grown and having kids of their own. Sam bought the land next door to Bobby and built a house for himself and Amelia.

 

After Dean’s death, Sam was forced to deal with the apocalypse. He came up with the idea to say yes to Lucifer then try to take back control and throw himself into the hole. Cas wasn’t too keen on the idea but couldn’t offer a better solution. So Sam said yes, but it didn’t go as smoothly as he wanted. Lucifer while wearing Sam did some major damage and Sam couldn’t gain control. The final battle between Lucifer and Michael was drawing nearer and Sam was running out of time. But by the grace of God, or someone, Sam was able to jump into the pit and pull Michael in with him. Sam, being the new masochist of the family, gladly accepted his eternity in the cage with the two archangels, however, the next thing he knew he was top side. Sam tried to speak with Cas about it, but Cas always seemed to brush him off. Castiel had pulled major strings to pull Sam out of hell. The fact that Castiel wasn’t the Garrison’s favorite angel actually worked in his favor; everyone was well aware how persistent Castiel could be and frankly, they would rather just acquiesce to his request rather than deal with him for the rest of eternity. Or worse, Castiel go try and figure it out on his own. So the Garrison pulled Sam out and wiped away the memory of his two day stay in Hotel Hell.

After that, he went back to Bobby’s and started answering phones and doing research. Sam couldn’t go on jobs alone and the thought of getting another partner was just sickening. A year had passed when he first met Amelia. She was hunter looking to retire; she had grown up in the life and decided she wanted out. She came by Sioux Falls to get some advice from Bobby but ended up spending time with Sam instead. The pair clicked instantly and it wasn’t long before they both got the normal lives they wanted.

****

Now, Sam sat on the couch with Bobby watching Home Alone. Sam repositioned himself as Bobby huffed a laugh at the current scene. The crackling fire covered up the flutter of wings as Castiel appeared, though Sam never was very observant of that, not like his brother. Castiel stood off to the side as sorrow seemed to suffocate him. Cas loved Sam, he truly did, but he felt sick every time he saw him. Cas couldn’t look at Sam without thinking of the good ol’ days. The last thing Cas needed was just another reminder that the delusion he was living in was just that, a delusion.

“Merry Christmas.” Castiel spoke softly and Sam smiled in response.

“Hey Cas, Merry Christmas to you too!”

“It ain’t Christmas yet.” Bobby grumbled, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. Castiel walked stiffly over to the arm chair, beside the mahogany coffee table, and sat down. He sighed heavily.

“So, Cas, what have you been up to?” Castiel groaned internally as he awaited the lies to soon flow from his lips.

“The usual Garrison duties have been acquiring my time lately.” Castiel hadn’t told Sam about Dean’s reincarnation. At the time, telling Sam had honestly slipped his mind. After a few years past, Castiel didn’t want to hurt Sam by dragging up the past; Castiel knew Sam wanted to move on, to forget the pain. Sam never even asked about Dean to Cas until the fifth year anniversary of Dean’s death. Sam wanted to know if he had seen Dean in Heaven. Cas replied no, he hadn’t seen Dean in heaven, but that he knew where he was. Sam had asked follow questions, why couldn’t Cas see Dean? Why couldn’t Dean be resurrected? Did Cas know if he was okay? Was he happy? Castiel answered his questions, telling the truth when he could and lying when he couldn’t. After that visit was when Cas began visiting less and less often, finally reaching the annual Christmas get together. Sam put two and two together and realized Castiel’s lack of visitation was connected to bringing up Dean. Sam mistakenly thought that Castiel was upset because _H_ _ow would I feel if I worked in heaven and still never got to see Dean?_ Sam never asked about Dean again.

 

*     *    *

 

Lucy squealed as Logan threw her up into the air. He caught her and whisked her back to the ground. She spun around dizzily and once regaining her balance bounded off down an aisle of evergreen trees. Mitchell chased after her, calling  “Wait up!”

****

Logan walked up the aisles pulling out a tree every once in awhile.

“What about this one?” He had the tree leaned up against him, his jacket already stained from the several other trees he’d dragged out already. Teresa shook her head.

“Nah, this one isn’t good at all. Do you see that bald spot in the back?” Logan fought not to roll his eyes.

“Well it’s in the back right? So who’s going to see it?” Teresa glared at him. “What?”

“You know if you don’t want to be here you can just leave.”

“Oh god, don’t start.” Logan was exhausted, he had just gotten off a eighteen hour shift after a four day stay at the station. And of course he wanted to be here, but considering this was the third Christmas tree lot they had been too that night to find ‘the perfect tree’, his patience was wearing thin.

****

“What do you mean don’t start? You’re the one who’s been complaining this whole time.” Logan opened his mouth to respond but closed it.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just tired.” He spoke the words, no real meaning behind them. Teresa’s shoulders sagged. She recognized the fake apology, but she remained silent for a moment. _When did he stop caring enough to argue with me?_

 

Teresa admitted that lately she had been purposely trying to rile Logan; Logan just seemed so stalled out. She noticed that he had stopped living life and was now just going through the motions. He smiled less often and his mind was always some place else. She’d wake up to see him standing at the window of their bedroom, simply staring. She had been trying for the past six months to wake him up from his reverie but she could never seem to shake him. She soon found herself not caring much either.

****

Lately in the past several months Logan had felt himself reluctantly living life, going through the motions so to speak. He’d been having dreams of different scenes but they always included the same two characters, one of which he’d remembered from his _childhood_ dreams: The Man in the Suit. He seemed to be the second character; while he looked different and went by a different name, the dreams were always through his point of view.

****

The dreams he had as a child merely consisted of the Man in the Suit but the ones he’d been having recently were different and had an old quality to them; they felt less like dreams and more like forgotten memories. Though he wrote them off as dreams, being that they often consisted of really bizarre happenings. He hunted witches and things with black eyes. He pretended he was an FBI agent, and could wield a dagger type knife as easy as pie.  He had a trunk full of weapons and a long hair companion a majority of the time. He’d thought they were brothers, but he couldn't be sure. The details were sometimes foggy. But a few scenes were as clear as day.

****

In one, The Man in the Suit sat on top of the 1967 Impala. They sat next to each other and talked about nonsense things that didn't make much sense while staring at the sunset. They shared burgers and Logan could feel his chest warming with joy and happiness as they shared this moment.  

Another one was almost a nightmare. He went through agonizing pain and the Man in the Suit seemed to be the one inducing said torture. But he couldn't help the thoughts in his head that told him that he didn't blame the Man in the Suit. After the hours and hours of torture, he’d taken refuge in the man’s arms and had never felt happier.

****

Logan had began to miss this mysterious Man in the Suit. He’d felt ridiculous because this man was merely a figment of his imagination and he found himself longing to meet the man in person. Sometimes he just stand and look out the window thinking about everything, trying to figure it all out. He hadn’t come up with many solutions.

********  
  


Teresa sighed internally, then turned and called Lucy and Mitchell. She could hear them approaching as their giggles rose in volume. She plastered on a smile that became genuine as she looked at the flush little faces of her children.

****

       “Hey, what do you guys think of this tree?” She pointed to the one Logan was just about to put back. They squealed and jumped in agreement. Lucy hugged her mother around her legs while Mitchell clapped his hands together. Logan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He waited a moment, giving his wife a chance to change her mind, then made his way to the front of the lot.

 

They had paid for the tree and tied it to the roof of the car. Mitchell and Lucy were singing Jingle Bells while they threw the loose pine needles into the air.

****

       “It’s a parade!” Lucy giggled as she ran through her nature made confetti. Logan sat on the hood and watched them play, suddenly feeling in a better mood. He laughed and even chased the kids around the lot for a while. Teresa smiled as she caught a glimpse of the Logan she had fallen in love with. Fifteen more minutes passed before Teresa ushered the kids into the car and they made their way home.

 

Castiel had missed the getting of the tree but had arrived just in time to see Logan knotting the twine to secure the tree to the car. While remaining invisible, he leaned on the hood next to Logan. He instantly felt the sorrow that had been suffocating him melt away. It was times like these when all his pain melted away that he truly felt like he was with Dean; Dean had a knack for relaxing Cas.

       Any remnants of sadness he had, disappeared completely when he saw Logan chasing his kids around the lot. Their loud bursts of laughter reminded Cas of when Logan was their age. Cas remained invisible as he sat in the backseat of the car in between Mitchell and Lucy. The two kids sang Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Teresa joined in. Logan hummed softly as a smile played at his lips. Cas didn’t quite understand the song.

****

Reindeer could have red noses. And even if they did it had nothing to do with Christ’s birth. But Cas soon picked up the tune and bobbed his head to the rhythm. He could smell the fresh evergreen waft through the car and he could feel the chill of the air from outside. He closed his eyes and smiled. He was happy. Very happy. The thought came to him that he might not get his Christmas with Dean for a very long time, but he was more than happy to have a Christmas with Logan.

 

The last two weeks of preparation for the holiday flew by. Cas tagged along with Logan throughout the whole 336 hours. He took on holiday shopping at the mall and the dangerous task of hanging up Christmas tree lights. He stopped forgotten cookies from being burned in the oven and made sure Tiffany, (Lucy named the Christmas tree), had enough water. Cas stood in line with the family as they waited for pictures with Santa. He stopped Axel’s tail from swatting down fragile ornaments, he made sure the driveway always stayed snow free and Logan’s windshield never had a thick layer of ice. Castiel sat across from Logan as he wrapped the kids’ and Teresa’s presents; Logan had some trouble with it. Cas noticed Logan used twice as much tape as Teresa had. Cas sat with Teresa earlier in the day, watching her fingers handle the cascading ribbons and perfectly creased paper with ease. The thought occurred to Cas that he wanted to have a wrapped present for Logan as well.

 

He disappeared for a short while, brainstorming what to get Logan. He rolled the marble that permanently rested in his pocket between his fingers. He exhaled and watched his warm breath create a smoky cloud in the below-freezing weather. He sat himself on the cold ground, the moist grass seeping through the trench coat and his suit. He pulled the marble from his pocket and dropped it into the grass, the exact spot Cas had first spotted it. His heart swelled.

****

He hadn’t visited the exact spot since, well since he had sat here with Dean. He’d visited Dean’s heaven sure, but the actual grassy shoulder off a two-lane highway had remained a forbidden place. Castiel could never muster up the reserve to visit; he had been terrified that what little stability he had, would be shattered if he immersed himself in ‘yesterday’. Yet here he was peacefully silent, and sad, but strangely whole. The pain that rattled in his chest dulled but remained present, and a forlorn smile crept to his lips. He bit the inside of his cheek as he shifted over and rested his head on wet ground, pretending it was the windshield of the Impala. That was all Castiel could do.

****

He could sit and be there. The grief seemed to exist in this spot. Castiel felt more connected to Dean here, than being with Logan. The thought that maybe Dean was no longer Dean scarred Castiel. What if Dean’s soul had grown and changed? Wasn’t that the point of reincarnation? To grow, change, evolve? What if Dean wasn’t Dean anymore? What if Dean had grown to be Logan? What if Dean’s soul was now Logan, and the Dean, Cas had known, gone? Castiel felt the dark cloud surround him as these questions probed his mind. He shook his shoulders, trying to physically shake them away. They merely hid in the back recesses of his mind, waiting to be dealt with.

****

*      *      *

****

It was Christmas Eve and the children were running about.  Only after a cleanup of spilt milk, and selecting the best cookies for Santa and even a few carrots for the reindeer, were the kids satisfied with going to bed. Not that the task was easy, no way. It took everything to get the little rascals to bed, mainly threats that Santa wouldn’t come if he found out two naughty children were still awake.

****

Teresa sighed as she collapsed on the loveseat in their living room. She glanced around at Tiffany, the Christmas tree, and the white twinkle lights that made her seem truly alive. Her eye caught on a specific red bulb as she watched the lights in the shiny reflection. Logan jogged in and sat down on the couch, kicking his feet up onto the glass coffee table. Teresa looked over at him and smiled. She played with the drawstring on her hoodie as she curled her feet up. Her eyelids were heavy and they fluttered closed against her will. She forced them open again and again before she forced herself to stand up. She cursed lightheartedly under her breath. Logan looked up as she cracked her back.

“What?”

“I still  need to wrap ‘Santa’s’ presents. God, I’m tired.” She bent over and touched her toes trying to wake herself up a bit.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll get ‘em. You hid them under the kids’ beds, right?”

“Yeah, I figured they’d never look there.” She smiled and shook her head. “You sure? Santa was pretty generous this year…”

“I think I can handle it.” Logan smiled and rose to meet Teresa.

“Thanks, hon. I’m really tired. I never gave my parents enough credit for doing this when I was a kid!” Logan wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her forehead. She pressed a kiss into his shoulder before turning and heading off to bed. It was close to midnight then and Logan went tiptoeing into the kids’ room. Their muffled snores filled the room as he quietly bent down and tried to grab the presents. He pulled one of the boxes and knocked over a bucket of army men. He cursed as the couple hundred plastic men clamored across the hardwood floor.

****

_Yeah, great hiding spot minus the fact that I’m going to wake them up and they’re going to see the presents anyway. Surprise Santa’s not real!_

_**** _

He waited until the deep breathing resumed and he pulled the boxes and various toys out, every once in awhile an army man would get caught underneath and screech as it was dragged across the floor.

****

Logan succeeded, however, and managed to get all the presents out without waking up Mitchell and Lucy. He smiled at his luck and carried the load to the living room and started Santa’s workshop. He pulled the special wrapping paper from the closet and spent twenty minutes trying to find tape, and another five looking for scissors but he eventually sat down. To find that the remote was on the arm of the love seat. He groaned as he pushed himself up and grabbed the remote. He flopped back down and flipped through the channels, until settling on _The Christmas Story._ It was a classic that he had always watched with his mom and dad around Christmas. Leave it to Lifetime to have it playing nonstop for the next three days.

****

He turned the volume lower as he began to wrap present after present. His fingers suffered numerous paper cuts and he laughed as the thought _try to not get too much blood on the presents_ crossed his mind. He cracked his back after signing the last cursive “from: Santa”. He picked up the presents and placed them around the tree, and grabbed the little goodies and threw them into the stockings. He grabbed his and Teresa’s empty stockings and threw a few of the extras into them.

****

Couldn’t have the kids asking why Santa didn’t get them anything. Teresa and Logan weren’t on the naughty list, were they?

****

He hung all four stockings back about the mantle before grabbing Santa’s cookies and milk. He took the carrots and munched on them as he collapsed back on the couch, glancing at the clock on the DVR and noticing it was already two in the morning. _Damn_. He threw the nubs of the inedible parts of the carrot into the fire, and tossed a cookie into his mouth. The moist cookie melted into his mouth and he took a swig of the chilled milk as his eyelids grew heavier. The thought to get up and get to bed crossed his mind, but his body was unwilling and refused to move.

****

Everything seemed to lull him to sleep, the crackle of the fire, the subtle noise of the TV and the Christmas lights danced, their reflections bouncing off the ornaments and glass table. He faded quickly and soon was lightly snoring with his face pressed against the couch’s armrest. Less than a half hour had passed when Castiel appeared in the room. He smiled fondly at Logan’s sleeping form and he couldn't resist himself as he stepped closer. He pushed Logan’s hair back and a slight upturn of lips appeared on the asleep Logan’s face. Castiel turned and pulled out the small wrapped present. He glanced down at the small label he’d placed on the top. Castiel had debated what to label it. He couldn't possibly put his own name and while the idea to put ‘from an old friend’ had bounced around in his head for awhile, he eventually decided that From: Santa would be the best option. Though, he did leave a note inside the box that said a variation of the second option.  He smiled as he rubbed the foil wrapping paper under his thumb. He slipped the box into Logan’s stocking and then made to leave--but he found himself tethered to his spot.

****

He disappeared for a second, to reappear underneath Logan’s sleeping form. Logan’s head was in Cas’ lap, curled up in ball. Cas ran his fingers through Logan’s short hair. Part of Cas couldn't believe he allowed himself to intrude this much, but a better part of him didn’t  care. He sat and thought of Dean, as he continued to card his finger’s through Logan’s hair. He watched the twinkling lights reflect around the room and the old classic movie that played on the television hung on the wall. Cas made sure to keep the fire alive and listened contently as it snapped and crackled through the hours. Cas felt the sadness and joy battle within him as he enjoyed Logan’s presence and closeness but also longed for Dean’s.

****

It was nearly six A.M when Cas zapped Logan into bed. He then went and checked on the sleeping kids and pet their heads before returning to the living room. He sat on the loveseat and continued to immerse himself in the holiday. It was nearly seven when he heard children’s feet pound the floor and the excited giggles as they bounced up and down on their parents’ bed. He heard the groans of Teresa and Logan as they got up and promised presents could be opened after coffee was made. Cas made a mental note to put coffee on himself next year so the children wouldn't have to wait.

****

He sat invisible on the ground next to the fireplace as everyone hustled into the living room. The children tore through the wrapping paper and discarded the remnants on the floor. Castiel had stared in shocked horror at first but was relaxed when he saw the smiling faces of Teresa and Logan as they watched. Cas concluded that ruining the wrapping paper must be a customary tradition; he didn't understand said tradition, and he decided Dean would have to explain it to him sometime in the future.

****

The kids sat in a pile of crumpled wrapping paper with a sea of toys surrounding them. Teresa sat on the couch sipping the last drops of her coffee watching Lucy and Mitchell giggle and laugh as they discovered all the possible ways to play with their presents. Teresa looked over to see Axel was content laying on the ground near the fireplace. She was happy that he had calmed down--when they had all first gotten up, Axel had continually barked at the fireplace.

****

Castiel now sat cross legged on the ground with Axel’s head by his foot. It didn't matter how many times Castiel had reintroduced himself to Axel, Axel always insisted on barking before cuddling up next to him.

****

Teresa stood up and announced she was going to start making pancakes and the children responded in squeals of joy. Logan ambled in from the kitchen and refilled Teresa’s cup of coffee and handed the kids two cups of steaming hot chocolate. The kids smiled and took the cups from his hands. They sipped for a few minutes before Lucy bounded up, a little chocolate sloshing over the side of the cup and dribbling down the front of her pajamas.

****

“Daddy! We forgot the stockings!” Lucy pointed to the fireplace with the stockings hung up, and Mitchell stood and ambled toward them behind her.

****

They each grabbed their own stocking and plopped down on the ground. Mitchell began to look inside when he realized neither parent was making their way to the fireplace. He stood up again and grabbed each remaining stocking and handed them to his parents. Teresa opened hers in the kitchen as she stirred the batter and waited for the griddle to heat up. Logan sat on the couch his mug of coffee balanced on the armrest.  He pulled out the numerous Christmas themed candies and the hand drawn pictures the kids had snuck in some time in the morning. Logan found a red and gold wrapped present with a partially crinkled bow. He looked at the label that had the cursive written Santa on it. He quirked an eyebrow and looked towards the kitchen where the quiet clanging of a wooden spoon on a ceramic bowl emanated. He gently tore the wrapping off to see a small white box. He pulled off the lid and a slip of paper rested inside. He picked up the slip and unfolded it. He was expecting a love note of sorts, a quick _I love you_. Or a _Merry Christmas Darling._ Or something of that sort. And in a way it was, unknowingly to him however.

****

The note was handwritten and had a simple line elegantly written across the paper.

****

_Merry Christmas. From The Man in the Suit._  

****

Logan stared at the piece of paper as he mouth dropped open. And everything seemed to click. The piece of paper still in hand and he looked down at the contents of the box and he felt like he was drowning from the sudden realizations. Everything seemed to click yet nothing made sense and his fingers reached into the box. He pulled the leather cord up and what hung from it was a brilliant green marble. It had sparks of amber and yellow with light and rich tones of green exploding within it. His fingers touched the orb and his lungs almost collapsed. The dream came back full throttle as a missing piece came back to him. The Man in the Suit sat beside him in the Impala and he was smiling sheepishly as he dug into his pocket. His voice was grainy as he responded to a question,

_“Yes, but this one…this one is special.”_  Logan felt a grin spread across his face and his voice spoke,

        _“Can I see it?”_ Logan saw what was presumably his own hand outstretching and clasping the marble in his own fingers. He saw it gleam and sparkle. He heard a deep voice that seemed to erupt from his lungs say,

       _“I admit it Cas. It’s pretty awesome. Most gorgeous marble I’ve ever seen.”_

**  
**Logan was thrown back into the present and he clasped the marble tightly in his hand. He took in a shuddering breath and quickly wiped the moistness from his eyes. He secured the necklace around his neck and threw the wrapping into the fire, suddenly feeling a sense of secrecy. He held the piece of paper in his hand and quickly hid it in his dresser drawer. His breath was still short and he received a warying look from Teresa as she set down his plate of pancakes in front of him. He realized he was seated at the table and couldn't remember actually sitting down. He struggled to regain his composure as he shoved his whiplash of memories to the back of his mind. Though he couldn't help absentmindedly stroking the marble dangling from his neck.


End file.
